Smile
by Mariko89
Summary: There was a boy who wanted a family and there was a man who never expected to have one. Bad luck that one comes to the latter without so much of a choice. Bad luck, really? Or a new chance for them to smile again? Sevitus, adoption-fic.
1. Tears

**So... the story, the first I've ever written for the HP fandom… God, I'm nervous!**

**Well…**

**Things you really should read here because I won't repeat myself and won't answer any questions nor hear any complaints about it:**

- This a fic centered on Severus and Harry's relationship as in a **father and son bonding story**. It doesn't mean there won't be any others characters and as much as I hate them, there will be some OCs but their presences will be put onto the background, they won't be overly used but just to explain some things. God, I hate OCs!

- I have to inform you that my story is **darker** than the books have ever been. I don't like that, with his past, Harry is being so nice and acts so hero-ish, self-sacrificing, devoted (hear stupidly, brashly, suicidal) and all, so... yes, I wanted him to be on edge of being a "bad guy" and with some light mental issues due to the abuse. He won't be dark but he won't be "light" either. He will be "just Harry" or at least the character I wanted to work with. Yes, he will be OOC because his past will be worse than what the canon displayed but I think it's not so much, not to me at least (honestly, a cupboard as a room, not enough to eat, bars on the window…!). He will be intelligent but not a super power Harry even if better than Hermione (yes, he will) but he will work hard and I will use things not used in the books to explain it. As for Severus, he will not be chummy and all but he will go through a difficult process to make of him a real father. Don't worry though, he will be our favorite tough teacher but slightly different (being a father will change him).

- There will be some** slash** far later (not between Severus and Harry, obviously) in this story so no flames, you have been warned.

- **Timeline:** Yes, it's a bit different than in canon. Harry is here born in 1989 because I hated the 80's and 90's (Yes, I'm that old…A problem?) and I wanted to work with a modern world and there is another reason and if you can find it, I will answer one question about the story.

**WARNING **: dark themes, rape attempt, child abuse, violence, not fit for children under 16 years old. You have been warned.

**WARNING**: I'm writing this story in French, my native language and then, I'm doing the translation for you, dear English readers, so be nice to appreciate it and don't be too mean if you find any misspelling or grammatical errors as I didn't find betas serious enough to do the thing for me but I did try my very best.

Disclaimer : I'm not J.K. Rowling, that's pretty obvious but well… I'm just playing with her universe.

**Well...enjoy!**

**Reviewed and corrected on December, 2013.**

* * *

><p><strong>SMILE<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

**Tears**

* * *

><p><strong>Harry, 2 and a half years old.<strong>

Harry is afraid of the storm. Like really, really afraid. Inside his little cupboard, there's no window and even if he doesn't see the lightning bolts shining and the rain falling, he still can hear the drumming drops out and the sound of the lightning strikes. It's even more terrifying because he can imagine it all. He usually doesn't like storms and this one is very big and very scaring. He doesn't dare to stir from his closet, mostly because he doesn't know what will happen to him out of there. And his aunt and uncle always told him that he was not allowed to go out except to go to the toilet. It would probably anger them if he went out without a "good reason". They already are so often angry with him... But really, what's stopping him is that outside his small closet there is ... The Unknown. And that's something really creepy. He tries to never go out at night. Except to go when he "has to go" but he does so really quickly because if he doesn't make it in time, Aunt Petunia isn't pleased. She doesn't want him to have diapers any longer – even if Dudley still wear them – but he still has "accidents" and then… That's why he can't sleep well. He's so worried about wetting himself that he tries to prevent the accidents as much as possible by waking up regularly during the night. But, even then, he avoids going out in the night. Even if his room is cramped and uncomfortable he's still familiar with it and it reassures him. Still….now… staying here, all alone, with the storm out…it's too much for him.

A new rumble – he's sure it's nearer than the last - seems to roar outside. His overactive imagination whispers to him that it sounds like the monsters Dudley had made them watch on the TV even after aunt Petunia said no. Then, his aunt had come and she had turned off the TV and then she had comforted her little Diddykins, saying that monsters would never come for nice little boys like him and she had given him a lollypop. But she hadn't said anything to Harry. And he didn't receive any lollypop. Aunt Petunia even scolded him and accused him to have willingly frightened Dudley. But he didn't do it! He swears! It was all Dudley! All the same, now that he is alone and in the dark, he can't help but think about it. What if they were looking for him? He could never protect himself. He is too small, that he knows well. He's shaking all over now and he holds tightly on his little blanket. Tears roll down his cheeks but he tries not to make any noise. It's hard so he has to place his little hands over his mouth to contain his sniffles.

He feels like he can almost hear the monsters coming and can no longer hold himself. Were they looking for him? He really is afraid now. He doesn't want to have to wait for them to find him. He needs protection. He thinks of his aunt and uncle that are upstairs. It seems so far from his cupboard. But if he could reach them, he could explain about the monsters down and they would take care of them, he just knows it. They are very big, especially his uncle. They would flee before his uncle and they would leave Harry alone. Yes, his aunty and uncle would protect him, for sure. That's what grown-ups do after all. Even if it's to protect him because they may not like him much but they are all he have. He gets up slowly, cautiously, making as little noise as possible. He opens very quietly the closet door and looks outside. He knows it's the sitting room but he hardly recognizes it. He takes a look to see if the monsters are there, just to check.

There are all these shadows dancing and the flashes of light that blind him. The sitting room appears terribly spooky. The shadows… they move! But they don't seem to have noticed him yet. His heart is beating strongly, very strongly. He makes sure that there is no one before totally going out. He's lucky because if the monsters are hiding in the shadows then, at the moment, they don't pay attention to him. It's a relief. He walks hesitantly as he is afraid to draw attention and he holds his breath as much as he can. Suddenly, a large lightning illuminates the room and he can't help but scream out of terror, rushing to the stairs, all precautions now forgotten.

He just wants to find his uncle and aunt. He wants to be comforted and he wants to have them take care of the monsters that dance in the shadows, to make them flee away. His little legs struggle to climb the rugged stairs, but the terror helps greatly in this case. He opens the door that wasn't closed and rushes in the bedroom hastily, huddling on the elongated shape of his aunt while shaking badly. His move awakes his aunt with a start. He stammers and tries to explain that he is scared of the monsters, that they are coming to take him but a rough hand grabs him and pushes him away violently. He falls hard on the floor. It's his uncle and he seems angry. Harry turns to his aunt, confused. She comforted Dudley, she surely knows what to do.

"Vernon, how many times did I tell you to put a lock on that damn closet!", the housewife mumbles, dissatisfied with the rude awakening before lying down again, turning around to go back to sleep.

The boy's eyes widen. Why his aunt doesn't do like she did with Dudley? Harry doesn't understand. The boy is then promptly brought to his cupboard by his swearing and screaming uncle who yells at him, saying that if the monsters ever came back to take him then he should let them do and that if he feels the need to awaken good people in the middle of the night then he would get a taste of his belt. He throws Harry in the little room and leave, grumbling to himself about ungrateful burden. The little boy is confused. And hurt. And still scared. He tries to shut the hurt inside his little heart by humming to himself an old lullaby, hoping to get some comfort from it and hugging himself in order to try to forget his fear.

The next day, Uncle Vernon installed a small golden lock on the room-cage of his nephew while his Aunt gave him a pot chamber.

After that, Harry learned to cope alone with his fears and tears.

* * *

><p><strong>Harry, 3 years old.<strong>

It's nice; it feels good. He works on the flower beds, watering lightly the begonias as aunt Petunia told him to do before putting him out. The watering can is heavy even if it's not full and it's very difficult to move it. It's important that he be careful otherwise aunt Petunia won't be pleased if he doesn't do it right. He likes being in the garden. He smiles. It's summer and there are lots of flowers around him. It smells good. The birds chirp happily and fly freely. This is why it's not a chore to little Harry. Besides, he doesn't know what he has been punished for to be made to do this chore. But as it often happens, it doesn't matter. Suddenly, his attention is attracted to bright colors that seem to float in the air. Unable to resist, the child gets up and leaves the task to follow the beautiful thing that flies without a defined path, trying to catch it.

He laughs.

A strong hand closes hard on the small arms and makes him look up. Aunt Petunia seems furious. He tries to show her the beautiful insect that landed on a daisy a little further. So that aunt Petunia would see them too, the beautiful colors dancing in the wind. And his aunt does see them. She approaches the butterfly and, without giving it a chance to escape, she ruthlessly crushes it before turning and barking at him to get back to work as he should in order to thank them as she and his uncle Vernon had taking him in out of the kindness of their heart, sacrificing themselves to offer shelter and food to the ungrateful brat that he is.

After that, Harry had no desire to laugh anymore.

* * *

><p><strong>Harry, 3 and a half years old.<strong>

"I'm sorry! Please, I'm sorry Uncle Vernon!"

The child moved back against the wall, scared. He didn't do it on purpose, he swears. He didn't think that Dudley would be afraid by the pretty little snake or so that it would bite him. It was so cute with its so pretty dark maroon color with large yellow stripes and its scales so bright under the sun. Harry had met it in the garden, somewhere in the wood heap for the chimney and they got to know each other. It was so nice to speak to something that he had wanted to show it to his cousin but Dudley had howled when seeing it and Harry was so surprised that he had dropped his friend on the floor. The snake must have been scared too because he had jumped on the fat leg of his cousin only to pierce the chubby skin with its sharp fangs.

Aunt Petunia had come then, followed by uncle Vernon. She took care of his "baby" as Uncle Vernon seized the broom and stroke, again and again, the little grass snake until it wasn't more than a pulp. The child had tried to save his friend but uncle Vernon had pushed him. Hard. He had fallen over the wall, dazed. Harry had been sad then and had felt guilty too. The little snake was so soft and nice and, at the beginning, it hadn't wanted to come with Harry but the little boy had succeeded in convincing it and now, it was dead. Because of him.

Like his dead parents. That's what aunt Petunia had told him.

And now his uncle is very angry. Aunt Petunia is hugging her duddykin who's sniveling against her chest while glaring at him, the one who had threatened the life of her dear child. What Harry isn't. He looks at his uncle who is now removing his belt. A gesture that he will soon learn to acknowledge. His aunt feebly protests that, maybe, "they" are watching but the man doesn't pay attention to her. He has to punish the freak, to pull this freakishness out of him. He wouldn't stand endangering his baby and his family because of this burden that had been forced upon them. He had to protect his family.

The first blow felt on a petrified and surprised Harry. It hurts badly. He huddles up, screaming, trying to protect himself with his thin arms, begging for his uncle to stop as he's lifting and lowering his leather belt upon his puny body. Finally, uncle Vernon had to stop himself, being out of breath but, surprisingly, feeling much better. He had done what had to be done. He had to make the boy learn his place. Someone had to inform the boy of what was acceptable and what wasn't. And he would be this person. After all, even if he wasn't pleased with it and would have gladly gone without it, he was the one responsible for raising the brat. And he swore that, even if it should take him years, he would do it. For the good of them all. For his family. Yes, that was the perfect thing to do.

"You're fortunate enough that it wasn't venomous, boy", he told at the bloody limping form on the floor. "We had to take you in but I can assure you that you will learn to obey and walk straight in this house for I won't stand my good name to be soiled by the devil's spawn of good for nothing freaks!"

Harry didn't answer, shocked. His body was hurting all over, he couldn't move so he stayed on the floor until the Dursley's came back of their traditional Sunday walk. His aunt then dragged him on his closet while cursing him for the cleaning that he had put upon her. He hadn't eaten at all this day but didn't ask for anything. Aunt Petunia seemed still so angry. He just heard one more thing before falling asleep despite his so many wounds which probably wouldn't allow him a proper rest:

"You have seen it by yourself, Pet', no one is watching. We can try to make something of this bad seed that we have been forced to plant."

* * *

><p><strong>Harry, 4 years old.<strong>

Harry is happy. He spoke to the Cats' Lady, and she was very nice to him. But he doesn't like when she hugs him. This may be because he isn't used to it or perhaps that's because Mrs. Figg doesn't know that she shouldn't touch him. Because he is a freak, he just knows it. That makes him uncomfortable when she does. And it hurts too, sometimes after one of his uncle beatings to get the freakishness out of him. He usually doesn't like coming at her home because she tries to make him looks at her many cat's photo albums that he doesn't care at all about but he's forced to comply into looking at them so she wouldn't complain about his behavior. But, more often than not, she just ignores him and lets him do what he wants, so that's fine. Today, his uncle and aunt went to town with Dudley, leaving home. Because it is a very special day. And even if it smells cabbage and catnip at Mrs. Figg, he doesn't care anymore right now. She gave him something to draw! And that's really good.

Because Harry has a great idea.

He heard about it weeks ago and saw lots of ads everywhere. That's why he was left at Mrs. Figg, he knows it. So he wouldn't spoil their day as he often does. But he wants to participate too but did not have time to do something before. Dudley destroyed what he had done at the nursery and even though the teacher said that it did not matter, Harry doesn't agree. He had put in it a lot of thought and then he concluded that it was logical that he does one. He draws with concentration. He puts all his talent and is careful in coloring all the characters, without overflowing the card.

It'll be good, or so he hopes.

He cannot write yet, but it doesn't matter. He draws his very wish on the blank sheet of paper. He uses the most beautiful colors and is careful with the proportions. He has talent, the teacher told him before putting a star on his last drawing. She even displayed it in the classroom before he asked her for it so he could put it in his room. That was an image that Harry has often dreams of, a bike that flies in the sky above the city. Her aunt was angry when he talked about it so he had to hide the picture in his cupboard under the stairs, not wishing to cross her. He doesn't want her to be angry with him; he's working hard for it.

Even if he does almost never succeed.

But that's because Harry is disobedient. He knows it; his uncle says it all the time. And his uncle is a grown-up, so he must be right, right? He is also "un-great-fool". He doesn't know what it means but he knows that it is serious offense for them. Yet, he tries to be nice, he really tries. But it's not easy to be all the time. This is why Harry is often punished and must go to bed even when it is still day light and he has not eaten. And he gets hit too, but that's when he deserves it. When he'd done his "freakish tricks" so it's normal, he supposed.

Finally, his aunt went to pick him up. He follows obediently. He wants her to be in a good mood because it's a great day. He wants to be a good boy so he really, really is careful. He never tried as hard as he is now. Because he craves so hard for his dream to come true. She asks him to water the plants in the garden with the garden hose before it gets too dark. He's happy to oblige. He opens the valve with all his thin forces and copiously waters the flower beds.

Once he's finished, he puts out his card with the drawing he had made. It was neatly pocketed so as to not damage it. His heart is pounding. He is afraid and at the same time, he is a bit excited. There is so much hope in this little card that he feels like he could explode. He enters the kitchen where his aunt is preparing the dinner. She notices him and he gives her, his hands shaking, his little sheet of paper by launching a shy and hesitant:

"Happy Mother's Day... Mom."

**oO°Oo**

While a little boy tried with difficulty to recover from a severe beating and from the hateful words thrown at him by his aunt, a drawing – albeit a little clumsy and naively made by childish hands – picturing a happy family with two parents and two little boys, smiling and taking each other's hands, was seeing its bright colors fade to nothing under the rain in the unclosed trash bin. Harry learned a new lesson this time.

This evening, he learned that dreams never get to be fulfilled. At least, not his. Even when trying really hard.

* * *

><p><strong>Harry, 4 and a half years old.<strong>

He must go on. And run. The boy's little lungs are fighting for air. His legs become heavy, his muscles being tired of the forceful use. There is not enough food in his tiny body to sustain his effort but he has to put up with it. He just can't stop. So he does what he always did. He doesn't pay attention to the pain. He runs for a reason, of course. Not for the pleasure of running but to survive. Because Dudley and his gang are after Harry in the marvelous game of "Harry Hunting". They are just "playing". But their games are always painful for Harry.

He speeds up, again. They are all well feed, Harry's chasers and (well, except for Dudley, of course), they run fast. They laugh seeing him trying to escape. The neighbors don't do anything, as usual, and look at the children with leniency. It's nothing of importance. To them, it probably is not, Harry told himself. He speeds once more for shaking them off even if the chances are next to nothing. But Harry doesn't want to lose against the bullies. He runs and tries to find a little hole or something to hide. He decides to go in the neighbors' gardens, through the edges and fences and soon, he doesn't hear their steps anymore.

Dudley has probably got tired and has given up.

Oh, of course, Harry knows that he will have to pay later for escaping them but, for now, he is safe. He had found a pretty grove behind the Donovans' house. It's dense enough with sharp thorns. Harry has chosen this one precisely because of the thorns as he is sure that Dudley and his goons would never come there. He must wait and stay hidden. He makes a face when he sees that he had grazed his arms but, more importantly, that he had torn up his shirt.

His aunt won't be happy with him. Not at all. She always said that he should be grateful for the clothes she provides him. Even if they are too large and overused. Dudley's old clothes. Because new clothes are for the ones that deserve them. And he doesn't. That's why he must take care of the rags he wears. Now he is in so much trouble. She's going to tell to uncle Vernon... But, right now, he doesn't want to think or even care about that. Because he had won. He had been better than Dudley. More obstinate and cunning. It doesn't happen often but as long as he uses his brain he can win. He can do it if he's stubborn enough.

But for now, he just wants to rest a little. Before he has to come back. For his thrashing.

* * *

><p><strong>Harry, 5 years old.<strong>

Today, it's the start of the school year. Harry was up to begin it. He is very excited. He will learn how to read, how to write and count. And he hopes to make friends too. He'll work real hard and he'll be nice and all. And he will show his aunt and uncle that he isn't stupid and maybe they will like him better, or even just a little bit more. It's Dudley school beginning too. Aunt Petunia had bought him a new wardrobe, a new bag and many other new things. Harry has a bag too, a used cotton bag but he has chosen his better clothes, the ones that aren't too bad. He would have liked to shower but his Aunt has told him that there wasn't enough time for him. He just has come to wash his face and freshen up a little. He is a little scared but he doesn't want to think of it.

Everything is gonna be alright.

**oO°Oo**

His uncle and aunty had driven them for the first day but they made sure that he knew that he will have to walk up there as of tomorrow. It's not easy to memorize the way to school because they drive fast. Fortunately, the school isn't far from the park he comes when he wants to escape a little. He thinks that he can manage. After arriving, his aunt gives a long hug to her Duddy darling dear while sobbing as his uncle is beaming with joy and pride towards his son. On the other hand, he throws significant looks to Harry. The Look that said "no freakishness or you will regret it". That's a lesson that Harry has long since known. His aunt finally consents to let her precious Duddydiddykin go as the teacher begins to gather the children.

Class is going to begin. Harry's so impatient.

**oO°Oo**

Harry feels like crying. It hadn't been alright. At all. Firstly, he hadn't answered when the teacher had called his last name. He didn't know there was something else apart from « Harry ». Everyone had made fun of him. He told himself that it could have been worse because if it wasn't for Mrs Figg he could even have not known his first name too as she is the only one who's using it. His teacher wasn't pleased with him and she has scolded him for disturbing the class. Harry was ashamed. Then, the following lesson had been interesting but he had quickly got bored. The teacher was only repeating again and again the same thing when once should have been enough. So he had been daydreaming and when his teacher had come to order him to pay attention, he had jumped, screaming. Everyone had, once again, laughed at him. He had been put in the far corner of the room until time break.

But it wasn't the worse of it.

During break, no one had wanted to speak to him and the few who had wanted to, Dudley and his goons had made them flee. They said that he stinks, that he is ugly with his mess up of a hair and his rags of clothes. Dudley had then pushed and stricken him. He had fallen hard on the ground. The teacher had come then and stepped in but everyone told her that Harry had fallen alone. It was not true and Harry tried to explain but she didn't listen. She was fed up with him and promised to tell his uncle and aunt how much trouble he had been.

He felt like he was in for a good beating.

* * *

><p><strong>Harry, 5 and a half years old.<strong>

Harry has finished his chores after school. It's late now and he is tired. Uncle Vernon is out for a drink with some important customers and the house is quiet. The child knows that he should get back to his closet but he doesn't. Not yet. He had made his chores quicker than usual just so that he can hide and listen. He goes upstairs quietly. He knows how to do it without being noticed. He goes near Dudley's room, just beside the door. He doesn't want to get caught or he will have to face many troubles, of that he's sure. The door is slightly ajar; he squats down, watching as, inside the bedroom, his aunt hugs her son before beginning to read him a story. Harry can't help feeling jealous. His throat tightens and his chest feels a little more constricted than he wants to admit. His aunt reads a story to his cousin every evening so that he can have good dreams.

Harry would like to have some good dreams too. But the only dreams he had are of pain, green lights and cold laughs. That's the reason that sometimes, he's glad to spy on these moments between Dudley and aunt Petunia just so he can dream for a moment that it is his hairs that are being petted, that it is him who will be tucked in and kissed on his forehead before going to sleep. The story in itself is boring. The adventure of the child who was lying about an imaginary wolf only to get eaten by it because of his lying doesn't matter. It's only about lies. Lies are not good or bad in his opinion. It is a necessity. Harry lies often but only to protect himself. Because his own wolf is named uncle Vernon. Once, he had told his uncle that he was waited by Mrs Figg to help her as he was about to beat him. The lie had convinced his Uncle to let him go and then, when he had come back; his uncle had forgotten to punish him because he was busy. And so the lesson was: Lie if you must in order to survive.

The stupid story is over now.

Dudley protests that he isn't tired and doesn't want to sleep but after tucking him in and offering him a late smile and goodnight kiss, he is already asleep. She is nice and soft when with him. Not as she is with Harry. But he doesn't count. He isn't wanted, that much he knows. They had taken great care of making sure that he knows. He doesn't care now and it doesn't hurt so much as it had before. He knows that he must go now and so he does, tiptoeing. He comes back to his refuge. He lies on his old cot and tries to tuck himself in with his threadbare blanket. He wouldn't cry. His eyes have long since mourning from what he can't have even if he doesn't really understand yet. It will be the last time he does that. He doesn't want to feel sorry for something that there's no hope for him to ever have. Not anymore.

It's too late for that.

* * *

><p><strong>Harry, 6 years old.<strong>

Harry tries to follow the directions of his aunt but it's not an easy task. He takes the bacon and puts it on the frying pan. He takes out the eggs and laboriously put them on the counter because it's high and he is small. He is hungry but his Aunt had said that if he did as he was told without trouble he would have something to eat. He didn't know what "something to eat" means but he hopes that it will be better than usual so he tries very hard to please her. He is careful. Harry is used to be hungry. It's the way things are for freaks like him. That's what his aunt and uncle had told him. He doesn't believe it now that he is older but he knows that it's better to just shut up and say "yes". They also say that food must be deserved and Harry has to do many things to deserve the scraps they let him have. Now he has learned to deal with. It's not fair but he says nothing. What good would it do? Sometimes, it's difficult to do all the work with an empty stomach but his aunt used to let him have something on some of her "good" days. A can of cold soup most of the time.

Harry is a quiet child. He doesn't speak and doesn't ask questions. He has piercing eyes though. Some would say that he is too quiet but as no one notices him, it doesn't matter. He is the one that is usually forgotten and more than once, people would notice him a long time after he had come around, surprised to find him there when they did think they were alone. He makes people nervous. He observes everything around him and listens on what should have been private conversations like the shadow he is becoming. He doesn't mind, he just tries to take care of himself. He can't play, no one wants him to use the toys and he doesn't want to just watch. Instead, he looks at the others, at their life, at everything that presents some kind of interest to him.

But for now, he must concentrate. He has to. He can't afford to make stupid mistakes. It's an important task (even interesting) and he feels a little pride that he is the one to do it. Just a little. He tries to do his best. He has to. Dudley isn't allowed to come near the stove and it's the first time he has a right that Dudley hasn't. His aunt makes it as if she's doing him a favor but Harry is not stupid, it's just a new chore. However, it's one chore he doesn't mind as he hopes he will be able to sneak food more easily. He doesn't have a choice anyway. Dudley can make choices. He can't. It's hard to keep a watch on the cooking because he can't see inside the frying pan. He grabs the handle while rising upon his toes to have a look. But it's too heavy for him and the inside falls over him, burning his skin with hot grease. He can't help screaming. In a second, his aunt is on him.

She doesn't check that he is ok or that the burns aren't too deep, no, she slaps him and yells that he has spoiled the breakfast. She doesn't listen to his apology, yet sincere. Then, uncle Vernon steps in to "take care of the issue upon his own hands". He drags him to the cellar, where no one will hear him and removes his belt. Because he has to "stop him to mess around", spoiling and destroying everything for the ones who are so kind as to take a freak like him under their roof. He strikes again and again until the "lesson" has sunk enough into the freak to his taste. Harry hadn't begged for mercy or cried when the leather had made deep wounds into his skin. It would just have made it worse, or so he knows. He just had huddled on the floor, protecting his head and tummy.

It's been a long time since Harry had known that no one would come to help him.

* * *

><p><strong>Harry, 6 and a half years old.<strong>

Harry doesn't cry. His eyes had dried a long time ago and he doesn't want to allow himself to be weak any longer. He should be crying right now but he had long since forgotten how to. Miss Crawley is gone. Because of him. Miss Crawley was nice to him. She is – was – his teacher at school. She had said to him that he was nice and intelligent. She had even given him advanced exercises when she had notice that he was daydreaming because he was bored. She wasn't angry when he didn't listen and just made him pay attention to a new exercise or lesson while the others were going on with the current lesson. Of course, she made a point to be sure he had learned what he should but she never yelled at him. She asked him questions and when she was satisfied with his answers, she let him do what he wanted as long as it was learning. He loves – had loved – Miss Crawley. But she is gone now. Like his parents, she has given him up. He can't blame her after all; he should just have shut up.

It was too good to last anyway.

His teacher had punished Dudley for his bad behavior and never indulged his every whim. She even scolded him for preventing one student to speak with Harry. Harry. She was the only one apart from Mrs Figg to use this name. It was weird at first and he had needed some time to get used to it. She called the others by their first name too but it seems special to Harry. It had been the two best months ever for the boy. Nothing that could be compared with before. She was nice and soft and she smiled quite often. Like a mommy, or so he thought. She never made fun of Harry for his rags of clothes, his smell or his ugly glasses that his aunt had been forced to retrieve from the charity case after his teacher made her notice that he needed them. She gave him the feeling that he was like the others for once and it felt good.

Too good. He should have been more distrustful. He had let his guard down.

Then, one day, she had asked him to stay after class. He knew that he should have paid attention then but he thought that she would only want him to talk about showering or about the state of his clothes because he knew parents were complaining. But how could he explain that his relatives didn't let him get a shower more than 3 or 4 times a week? He just managed to wash quickly his face and freshen himself a bit every day. But that wasn't what she wanted to talk about. He hadn't wanted to speak at first. Uncle Vernon had made it clear that he would pay dearly if he ever did. He didn't want to be in trouble with his uncle. But then, she said that she was there for him, to help him because not only was it her duty but because she cared too. She said that she would make sure that he would never be coming back to the Dursleys if he talked. She gave him hope. He had talked then. Because she said that she cared and she was the first to. She wasn't like the others or so he thought.

She lied to him.

He had wanted to trust her so badly because it was just so hard to always bear it alone, to never talk to anyone, to not have any others friends than books. He told her about the cupboard, the chores and the lack of hygiene. But he couldn't tell her about the beatings and the hunger. He was too ashamed. But she knew, she had guessed. And she had cried. But it wasn't so much, was it ? Only 2 or 3 times a week, not enough to keep him away from school for long. Just when he had really been ungrateful or made freakish things to happen. She said that she would prevent him to be abused again and this had made him frown. He had not really believed that she would act upon his confidences but she had. He just wanted someone to know and to care to help by giving him food, clothes or let him use the school's showers.

That was pretty stupid of him.

She had petted his cheek softly as he had imagined a mommy would do. He had really loved Miss Crawley with her fire colored hair and her bright eyes. She was like a memory he had forgotten. She made him feel like everything would be ok and that he could tell her everything. But then she had called the headmistress who, in turn, had called his relatives and he had felt betrayed. He had known what a huge mistake he had done when watching his uncle and aunt displayed the perfect act of the distraught family who can't understand why they are putting on edge when they try so hard to deal with a boy with so many issues. They explained that he was totally traumatized by the car accident where his drunkards of parents died, and how they tried to cope with him. They said that they didn't have extra money for him as his parents left him so many debts that they used all the money to pay for refunding, so that he wouldn't be burdened upon his majority.

They said that he was a boy with many issues, that he often lied or refused to eat with them or scream when they wanted him to take a bath because he was water phobic. They explained what a burden those lies weighted on them when they did try to do their best to raise him as they did with their Dudley whom he stole his old clothes because he refused to go anywhere in a car. There were holes in their story but their acting was truly impressive and, of course, the headmistress was embarrassed and felt sorry for them. Miss Crawley was furious but powerless to defend him. When she wanted to know why Harry had marks on his back, his aunt explained that Harry had bad scars due to the accident and that they couldn't get him to see a doctor as they feared they would be accused of abuse.

The weird thing for Harry was that, at first, the headmistress was fairly on Miss Crawley's side, and then, she suddenly had begun to believe the Dursleys. Her frown had then increased with every lies they were spouting until she stopped the argument and stated that Miss Crawley had to present the Dursleys an apology for unfounded accusations of child abuse. Maybe the word "donators" meant more than Harry's health in her book, he didn't know. She had advised his relatives to take him to a psychiatrist and that maybe a few chores in the house should take care of his obedience issue. Miss Crawley had been speechless. The headmistress had told her that she had misinterpreted or that he had probably exaggerated what he had told her but Miss Crawley hadn't wanted to let it go and continued to argue until she had to give up. She had lost. And then he knew that he was in so much trouble.

He had so much regretted ever having talked to her, to have put his trust into someone.

He had been seriously beaten and he had sworn then that he would never trust anyone again. He would just shut up now. It had taken one week before he could go back to school. Miss Crawley had tried to get attention from Child Care Services. She had been fired and his file, forgotten. Now, his new teacher is Miss Needlehead, a woman about fifty with a dry face and the first thing that she told him was that she knew what a little liar he was and that she would make sure that he knew his place. She was a stern and cantankerous teacher. Then, school had been a lot less pleasant. She spent her time picking on him and making fun of him when she praised Dudley for being such a nice boy with a cousin as Harry. Now, he is not Harry anymore though. She calls him "boy"or "Mr Potter". She calls him stupid and told him how hopeless he is. He doesn't really care.

After that, he saw Miss Crawley once more.

He was on his way back to the Dursleys. She was waiting for him. She told him how sorry she was before telling him that she was leaving the town as she wasn't wanted here anymore. She gave him a book of History as she knew how much he loved it. She made him promise that he would continue to study and that, one day, everything would be alright. She wasn't really convinced herself, he could tell. He had just nodded and had left her. He should have felt pain or something but he didn't. It was the first time that he had understood – really understood – that he can't expect others to help or care for him, that if he wants things he had to take care of them himself. There is no one else. There will never be someone else. There is no hope. Adults lie and break their promises all the time. They will always let you down in the end. He had believed them so he deserved the lesson. But he won't do this mistake anymore. That was the last straw.

Talk only brings troubles as much as dreams will never be fulfilled.

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><p>Well, that's all for now.<p>

If you think that is a long chapter, you have to know that is, in fact, **the first part of the prologue...**

_**If you want to give some feedbacks, please do so.**_

Bye!


	2. Hopeless

Well, thank you for the ones who take the time to give me a rewiew.

I hope this new chapter will please you as much as the first if not more. However, I must warn you, this chapter is darker than the first so please note it before reading. **This is not for sensitive hearts and rating M for a reason.**

Disclaimer : Not J.K Rowling and all that... but you did know, right?

**Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

**Hopeless**

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><p><strong>Harry, 7 years old.<strong>

Harry doesn't understand what had just happened but what he knows is that it's bad. That's really bad. His Aunt is angry. More than usually that is. Her hands tighten their grip on the handles of her purse and she forces a smile that stretches her lips pursed, leaving no doubt about her bad mood. Harry knows he's in serious trouble. But he really doesn't understand what happened. Honestly! The teacher just asked each student to color the oviparous and viviparous animals in the book in a different color and, to make sure there is no cheating, she had given pairs of different colors to each student. For Harry, it was blue for oviparous animals and left blank for viviparous. Except that when she came correcting his work, she said it was wrong, that he inverted the colors and would therefore have a very bad mark. As usual. It should not have upset him so much and yet ...

Dudley had laughed and the others had followed.

It was just so unfair! He knew he had done what she had requested and that it was she who was confused when giving him his colors. For once he had decided to rebel. Wrong move. He had said it was not his fault and that it was she who had made a mistake. She was not happy with him and replied that he would go face the corner for his insolence. Everyone began to whisper: "He is really stupid, not even able to use the right colors," "frankly, he only had to listen, he is always daydreaming," " we are wasting time anyway, what difference does it make if he gets a bad grade, he always has, "" he really is an idiot ... ". He wanted to scream. He was not stupid! He was not an idiot, he always understood everything right away, and if he had bad grades, it was only for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia for they would be angry and let him starve if he were doing better than Dudley. And she said blue! She asked him to color them in blue these bloody critters!

Then, the teacher had grabbed his arm to take him to the corner and he had begun to struggle. It hurt. Then, suddenly, the class had been silent. He looked at the teacher who had suddenly let him go. She stared at one of the locks that had escaped from her bun. The wick was blue. As was her hair. She watched at him strangely. She seemed to silently accuse him of having done that. But it was not possible, wasn't it? It was not fair that he'd punished for that. She took him in the Headmaster and the Headmaster had called her Aunt. After being back "home", he had been punished. Heavily. He did not eat until he was allowed to return to school two days later having some breakfast before leaving (a burn toast and a stolen apple). He had feared going back and facing the whispers of his quirks but no one said anything. Curiously, everyone seemed to have forgotten the incident.

Except for his relatives, obviously.

Harry, himself, was hurt enough to remember. He tried to explain he did not know what had happened, he just wanted his point of view to be heard. For them to know that he had listened and he couldn't stand to be told - again – that he was a liar. They didn't listen, of course. Of course they didn't. So, he tried to process what happened alone. Why everyone, except Dudley, his uncle and aunt didn't remember anything? It was as if it was something that needed not to be remembered but that seems silly. Like it was a secret. A hidden secret. But why? And how? What does it mean? He then recalled that it wasn't the first time such incident occurred. There was the ugly sweater her aunt had wanted him to put on, one day. It had shrunk to become the size of a doll. Her aunt had just mumbled that it must have shrunk machine and had let him go. That was strange in itself, but he hadn't stay for her to change her mind. Once he had landed on the roof of the school - it was during Miss Crawley's stay - because Dudley and his gang drove him. And the worst memory of Harry was when his aunt had wanted to "cut" hair and had shaved half his head. He was really anxious this time. He was so much laughed already at school for his bad look. He could not endure yet another humiliation. His aunt had been still speechless when she found that his hair had grown back on the night. She said nothing and never tried to cut his hair again. But there was always that glimmer in his eyes. Fear? But why?

There was probably a common feature of all this.

After the roof incident, he still had tried to apologize to Uncle Vernon, saying he had just landed there like that, like it was magic. Big mistake. The "M" word was banned from the Dursleys as were fairy tales and other "nonsense" to quote his aunt and uncle. He was beaten once more for daring to utter the forbidden word, to throw away this "thing" of his tiny body as Uncle Vernon said repeatedly. Harry didn't know what it was, but many times before, he really had whished that his Uncle would succeed if it meant that he would stop hurting him so much. But it had never worked so far. However, his uncle never ceased to try again and again. He can have a lot of will, his uncle. He thinks about it differently now. Everything seems to sharpen, to makes sense now that he accepts the possibility. Magic. The taboo word. Does it explain the weird things that keep happening around him? It all makes sense, now.

The Dursleys kept telling him that he was different, a freak and Harry really "felt" different. Of course, there was the Dudley's old clothes issue and only being allowed an express cold shower three times a week (four if lucky). Therefore, he understood and retained so quickly that classroom lessons were plain boring. But there was this little "something" in him that he had always felt but neglected to consider. He himself had been ill at ease with it at times, thinking that he didn't want to be more a freak than he already was. So there weren't any good dwelling on it, on his abnormality, hoping to make it go away. But now, what does it cost him to try? He was tired of trying to win the affection and kindness from his "family". He was always alone, he had no friends except for the books he read during breaks and at the local library, when her aunt told him to drag his freakishness upon tea time with her snobbish friends, gossiping properly as she should be without having his unnaturalness in her way. After he was done with his chores of course.

True, he just needed about two and a half hours to tidy the house (Dudley's bedroom included), vacuuming, cleaning the bathroom and kitchen. The usual. As he came home earlier than Dudley school – as his cousin was part of the club game and that he could not attend – he was more than able to take care of the house properly without the distracting – and dirtying – efforts of his cousin to make his work hell. The garden require little maintenance as he did it regularly for Aunt Petunia's need for her beds always being perfect so it only took him half an hour. Weekends and evenings, if all went well and without anything unexpected (like a big bad angry and whining Dudley breaking precious items and making him as if he was the responsible one), his Aunt put him out and refused to see him back before dinner time. He took the opportunity to devour every book he could. Mostly about history and science.

And so, there was the Magic issue.

Was it real? What if he was a ... a magician? He had taken upon him to search reference on history, science and everything to support his theory. Because it could explain a lot. Firstly, his relatives general and absolute dislike of him. This could probably be the reason he had always craved for. To understand. For a very short moment, he dreamed. He dreamed about what could it be if he wasn't "like that", if his relatives would have accepted him and made him part of their family if he had been as they are: normal. Not making them angry at him at every turn, for every reason. He shakes his head. The moment has passed and that was that. That very day, he decided that enough was enough. He had always made efforts to meet their expectations without ever having a chance of succeeding. He had only ever receive hatred and contempt from them, the school, and even the neighborhood. For nothing. There were those strange things around him when he was angry or upset but he cannot help it. **That **is the truth. He can't do anything about it. And it is for the best, actually. He had tried to be what he isn't and look at the results. He never fit. So, maybe he doesn't want to anymore. Perhaps it is time for him to accept the truth. To embrace it.

There is magic in him. It must be.

But how to be sure?

He decided to run a test. In his cupboard, he concentrated on the pain in his arm. A "gift" from Uncle Vernon. As a useful practice. He wanted it gone. It was bad, but not so much more than usual after a "correction". He really wanted to manage it, desperately. Not really for healing the pain itself but to prove his theory, to have something to hang on. He sweated with the effort but he was determined to succeed. To prove he was right. To find a reason. Any reason. Suddenly, he felt the change, the throbbing subsided, his arm became lighter almost. He was afraid to take a closer look, to feel his muscles for fear of waking up the pain. Slowly, he extended his arm he had curled up against his chest. Nothing. He moved his fingers. Nothing. He leaned over and shook a little with his other arm. Nothing. He lifted his sleeve to examine it. There was still blue but they were more yellow than purple. Of course the scars persist but it was already an improvement.

And it was he who had done this. Because he wanted to.

It was so exciting and surprising and... he just couldn't really believe he had made it. That he was right. He suspected, yes, very strongly, but now, it was really real. And it was opening some new perspectives. Some time ago, Harry had put words on the treatment the Dursleys make him suffer and these words are not beautiful. They are neither fair nor deserved. They just are. Without anything that can remedy the situation. He had just started to study law, the one about his case, but it's full of complex words and it's difficult to understand them. That's hard to make sense of the texts because the laws way of expressions is weird. Yet he clings. He uses the dictionary and dissects all, slowly, but he perseveres. He wants to know why the system does not protect him. He seeks a way out. But there isn't, except perhaps, the orphanage but that's not really appealing. How can he be sure it will not be worse there? The Dursleys, at least, he knows. So the magic is perhaps the beginning of a solution. However, Harry did not have time to review its discovery and its potential.

He is already asleep, exhausted by the very first conscious use of his magic.

In the morning, his mind is clearer and he is more determined than ever. He is not a Dursley, he is definitely not part of their family and will never be. No regrets in the end because there was never any hope in the first place. He is not really a Potter because it means next to nothing to him. He has no memories of that time. He is different once more. That's the only certainty, the only truth. And that is why they hate him. So Harry decides he does not want their love and affection. He does not need it or so he wants to think. He wants to be proud of what he is. Different, special, unique. He does not care to be rejected now. He will not let anyone hurt him anymore. He won't let anything or anyone break him by showing weakness. He will study, work hard, regardless of anything but his own interest. And he will wait. He will find a way to use his magic by training it. He will live for him and keep a low profile until the day when he will be older so he could show them at all. To prove that he is better than them. They will regret how they treated him. It is unclear how but they will know.

And they will pay.

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><p><strong>Harry, 7 and a half years old.<strong>

Harry is hungry. Harry feels cold.

He is outside. Under the rain. This is not the first time but this time, he does not know what he did to earn this. There wasn't really some excuse made to punish him like that. He made no "quirks" as the Dursleys say. He did all his chores and he even helped Dudley to do his homework, it means he has done all of it while not allowed to do his own. So, that's it. They don't bother with excuses now. Harry is silent and always does everything that needs be done without making a fuss now. He is a shadow in the house. But tonight, Uncle Vernon came home once again in a bad mood. It is common now. He missed an important business today and was angry. And he was drunk. Harry knows that it is better being even more discreet than he usually is. These cases also come more often now. Her aunt is upset by the misfortune of her husband as if the loss of a deal was challenging the stability of her home Harry mentally mocks. The Dursleys are yet far from being poor. She however mumbles about invoices and bills of the house to pay in addition to the "burden" they have to raise. Harry knows she talks about him and tries to shrink as much as he can. Harry knows his Aunt, her lips and wrinkled brow are more significant to him anything. Keep the head down, not give them reason to strike, he thinks.

He made the meal again. In fact, he likes it, he finds it soothing and nobody bothers him during that time. Meals are sacred to the Dursleys. He was careful not to skimp on the portions hoping to put some aside for him this time. But, just before serving, his uncle caught him and put him outside scoffing that he and his abnormality brought misfortune upon his family and that he needed to learn not to mess with him if the little ungrateful brat he is wanted to be allowed in their home. He added that it was time for him to understand how lucky he was that he and his Aunt were willing to give him shelter and food because no one else wanted him. After all, he had been abandoned well on their doorstep.

As a package which one wanted to get rid of.

The little boy pressed himself as much as possible against the wall of the entrance to enjoy the thin edge offered by the roof before giving up because the wind was blowing the wrong way, making his efforts insignificant. And the delivery was locked. He has to wait. The neighbors paid no attention to the future criminal who was his neighborhood, knowledgeable about the "evils" of his to worry about him, afraid of the relationships and power held by the Dursleys to rub it or just saying it was not for them to get involved, preferring to turn blind eyes. Too much effort and trouble in perspective. It was not worth the trouble, isn't it?

He is not worth the trouble, blew this insidious little voice that he silenced immediately.

He sniffed in disdain. He knows he should not be treated like that. That it is neither good nor normal. This is because he is different, magical. But no one did and will do nothing. And Harry knows that no one will go against the new director of Grunnings, the man's influence has even acquaintances with senior members of the Committee of Surrey. So what does it matter if a child is just "mauled", isn't it? After all, who cares? It's not as if it was really serious, the child leaves home, goes to school so it's not as if there were really issues there ... He may be a little small for his age and a little on the thin side, but compared to his cousin, it's not a reference. Furthermore, he has the sickly type. Petunia Dursley confirmed to them, the poor lad. It's hard having to care for a child so disturbed and so ungrateful. Harry knows that this is what the neighbors say. This is useful as an excuse to hide the truth and act as if no one knew. But they did.

He really is hungry now.

His aunt doesn't give him to eat as much as before, which was already not much, and his stomach protests. It's hard to stand. So he does what he must to survive. He walks in the rain. In any case, he is already tempered, what could it change? He will probably be sick tomorrow, he knows it. So be it. He thinks on the opportunities available to him. He is determined. It will not let them win. He has projects he wants to lead. While walking, he makes his plan. Anderson's daughter is anorexic and she often takes her meals quietly in the trash where no one will notice. Harry knows it, he has surprised her more than once. He takes the little packages sometimes when he can get it all without being noticed. He chases the cats who attempt to open the trash. He knows where to look. In small brown bags thrown out the balcony before she offers to take out the trash when she can hide the add. She plays with her life. But for Harry, it's a free meal so he does not care about what she does. It suits well. He said nothing. After all, no one cares about him so why should he worry about the others? And she does what she wants after all. There is a small piece of cold chicken and some vegetables. He makes a face but it will have to suffice. Maybe he should see Mr. Gastenberg's bin? He eats almost next to nothing since his wife died.

He hides in a bush and eat slowly. He must take his time for not being hungry too soon again. And then he is never sure when he will have the opportunity to search again in the waste without getting caught. Finally, he must return to the Dursleys. They would be able to leave him outside if they did not see him coming when called. Like a dog. And he knows that there will be nowhere to go. Except maybe for the shed of Finley? Mr. Finley is sometimes distracted and often forgets to close his shed. Or at Mrs. Figg, but he does not like how she looks at him sometimes. With a kind of indifferent pity. It makes him want to hit her. It's not as if it decided her to act, it is always as if nothing had happened. No, Harry knows that it is better to try to get into the good graces of the Dursleys.

For the time being.

They are not really within reach, in fact. But Harry tries to satisfy them more or less, he does only the minimum required. Harry knows, with a terrible lucidity that shouldn't be allowed for any child to know, while shivering in his wet clothes, that there is no one who cares about him. He doesn't care much about it. It would not have mattered anyway. Wait until they want him back (probably to do the dishes). Accept that he was going to be punished for being wet. Accept that no one cares he is badly shivering. Simply accept that there is one for him. He does not question the thing now. It is a fact. A simple and cold fact. But a hard truth to learn. Harry is not made to be loved, he knows it. He is alone and no one gives a shit about it.

And he hates them for that, all of them.

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><p><strong>Harry, 8 years old.<strong>

Harry does not know laughter. Harry does not know smile. He hasn't practiced enough to remember. Harry hardly speaks but it's not as if he had someone to talk anyway. Harry has learned to hold back his cries and tears when the blows are coming. Harry has become really good at that. Harry does not care anymore that no one not pays attention or laughs at him. It's his life. He seems almost indifferent and it makes he scary. He has no parents. He has no friends. But he survives. He deliberately did not get good grades in school because if he does her aunt punishes him. What if they say he is stupid? He knows better. He studied at the library or in the evening in his closet, when everyone is sleeping with the flashlight he had stolen to Dudley. Because he likes it. He does not care to get caught. One beating more or less doesn't change anything. Even without that, he gets one regularly because of his "freakishness" it seems. Harry does not care, he loves his magic and if it can piss the Dursleys off, the better.

He hates them.

Harry does not remember what it means to be happy when he looks the others. He watches his Aunt Petunia kissed gently one Dudley who protests that he is too big for it while still letting her do it. The horse-faced of his aunt becomes almost handsome while her mother's eyes lit up with tenderness. Before, Harry would have wanted to be looked at as well. Now he understood that it would never happen while he acts as if it's not something worth of interest. Sometimes he looks at the children playing in the park when he returns from the grocery store where his aunt sent him. He sees them having fun and before he would have liked play and share their games. But not anymore. He would not know how to behave. He felt like he is part of another world. They are so carefree. Harry has lost that spark a long time ago. He feels old.

But Harry has his notebooks and study books. He has most of the time, "borrowed" them from the librarian or the teacher when their backs were turned. He is very clever for that, he never have been caught so far. He knows how not to get noticed, do as if he was not there. This is one of the rules of the Dursleys and it is a very convenient one from this point of view. Harry knows how to get forgotten. He takes what he needs and he does not see what the wrong is with that. No one will deny him that. He needs to prove himself that he is not stupid. He just needs to keep this a secret for now. He doesn't know yet until when but he must learn. Quickly. And understand all of it alone because no one will care to verify or explain. That's it. He is not stupid. It's just all lies.

His aunt refused to buy him a card for the library. Why spend money for the burden he is, isn't he? But Harry realized a long time ago that if he wants something, he must rely on himself to get it. AND he loves to read so he continues to take the books without permission. He takes them back after reading anyway. Usually. Some he really likes so he keeps them. He loves history. First the one of Great Britain, then he began to study the whole world: Europe, the United States, China ... He studied history but also what has preceded, it goes back to ancient Paleolithic, the first men and he pays attention to the new discoveries. He always wants to know more about others like him and where they could come from. He sought in these ledgers something that would explain where he comes from, why he lives. But apart from some obscure stories of witch-hunting and shamanic cults, he did not learn much useful things. So he turns for economic and political mechanisms because it is a fascinating mystery with secrets, false and true information and he just loves to try to understand.

He loves puzzles and mysteries. He likes puzzle games such as Chinese puzzles of various shapes which always offer him new challenges. You just have to find the right combination and think logically. This gave him a taste for mathematics. He loves numbers and their absolute logic. If you apply the right method, you will always get a result set. The rules are clear. Addition, subtraction, multiplication and division. He loves it. But that's not enough then it began to want more. He tries to create his own math problems to solve. It also gave him a taste for science. He loves chemistry experiments carried out at school. Mix components and see what results you can get. It's fascinating. So he took it upon himself to read various popular science magazines. It's just exciting. But what Harry loves most is that he learns as he wants, and at his own pace as he sees fit. There is no one to tell him what to do or how he can change the terms whenever he wishes, move from history to economics to science and no one to come to reprimand or prohibit anything . It's freedom!

He isolates himself in this universe and this routine that he created. Sometimes it is frustrating of not understanding something but he doesn't give up and tries to find the answers in other books, other dictionaries. And he doesn't support when he doesn't find the right answer. But anger must be suppressed. He has no interest in being noticed. He doesn't dare asking because he knows he is barely tolerated there. The librarian look hotly at him, he knows it. Yet he takes good care of the books. Not like Dudley. But as he's being accused of every damage his cousin does ... And also, at the library, he can see people come and go and he takes time to observe, discreetly and without being noticed. This is one of his favorite hobbies. Decode the attitudes, gestures and tones of voice, what they say and do not say. This gives him the tools against the Durlseys and even against all of the others.

Observing others is just fascinating. Adults even more.

Their voices are saying things and their bodies are saying others. Adults tell many lies. Harry knows it. Mrs. Thompson always lies to his aunt when she comes to demonstrate her beauty products and Petunia asks her if a certain lipstick color looks good on her. As if anything could arrange the ugly horse-like face of his aunt Harry mocks. Mrs Thompson wears then a fake smile and her head leans slightly to the side while her right hand rubs absently the corner of lips that smile a bit too much to be natural. But what it's most interesting in Harry's book is that everyone always betrays themselves in very much the same way.

He wondered how no one notices.

This makes him proud to be the only one who knows all these little dirty secrets.

And their voices and words change too. This is a set of reaction that Harry is passionate about trying to understand and capture with his eyes, sharpening his focus through his bad vision, to follow the process and the evolution of their attitudes and the meanings behind them. It is almost intuitive. The unctuous voice of Aunt Petunia when she answers to the phone before changing almost imperceptibly according to the person she is speaking with. She does not use the same language depending on the person. Everybody behave according to the people they are with, their current mood and social environment. It's incredibly complex and exciting.

The observation's skill of the child sharpened but did not always help him escape his Uncle's wrath nor the «jokes» pulled on him by Dudley. However, it allows him to have some break sometimes. Not that he hopes for an improvement. Time has passed since he no longer believes in fairy tales even though he still loves the legends that speak of dragons, sorcerers and magic potions while he needed to focus on something trivial. He does not think that his behavior or his talents that he carefully hides will make things for him. He only does this by interest and convenience. He took it upon himself to discipline his body language. He spotted the signs that he needs to show the Dursleys: submission, obedience and gratitude. He had to erase any sign, even unconscious of rebellion, of disrespect and contempt. It was a long apprenticeship to master the natural reactions of his body. But it had paid off. He was just a little fool slave to everyone. He did not care. One day, he will reveal his true self. Patience. That way at least he has more time for him. The less you notice him, the more he feels good, almost safe.

Harry is no longer waiting to be told that it is worthy or to be given comfort. He does not need that. He is sure (or, at least he thinks so). He is worth better than that. He is building his own destiny. And dreams. The readings of fantastic tales have a delicious forbidden taste that allows him to escape from reality in the world that he created himself . So when he comes back, it's easier to bear. Anyway, he has his own tools now. He does what it is asked of him even though it is never enough but it taught him to observe others because he has long sought in their behavior what was lacking in his to be loved. Something that had been proved highly counterproductive. And then, there was that day, he had decided to abandon. It seems as if it was a long time ago now. He stopped looking. He ceased to hope foolishly. But he continued to observe, for entertainment but especially because of its usefulness. His perceptions are really refined now.

Decode the his family's attitudes, the ones of his teachers and neighbors allowed him to avoid "trouble" several times even though it does not work every time. His family does not always act logically so it's not always easy to understand and they often very quickly change of mood. But Harry has persevered. He knows he could never avoid all the beatings or the cruel words that are thrown at him. The Dursleys like too much to give him trouble, to have power and control over him. But Harry learns and clings to his projects. He learned to acknowledge the heavy step of his uncle when he is drunk, how the front of his Aunt wrinkles when she is upset. He also learned to anticipate the plans of Dudley when he prepares a blow against him. But he hasn't limited himself to them. And he understands more and more the reason for their actions.

He searched in the attic during the holidays when the Durley left him home alone with barely enough food to survive and instructed him not to get noticed by not going out of the house, locking it up. He found some old photo albums that had not been opened for a long time. He had seen pictures of what he guessed were his grandparents with two children by their side. He easily acknowledged his aunt with her surly air already printed on her face and with her eyes full of envious jealousy towards the second child on the photo. Harry could not see who it was because someone had meticulously cut out the silhouette of this child in each photo of the albums. Harry realized that it must have been his mother and he hated more than ever his aunt for what she had done. He could only guess from what was left of the photographs cut. But he had only succeeded in frustrating himself. Her aunt had done a good job.

However, he learned several things: Aunt Petunia had hated his mother as much as she had envied her. About his father, he didn't know where he came from but he could only assumed that objectively he would surely represent a new element to remind Petunia that she was less well endowed than her sister or something. And inevitably, with such a backlog of hatred, she had to share her feelings with his dear uncle. And as her husband, he had evidently made up his mind without thinking. Uncle Vernon was not really the thinking type anyway and it gave him an excuse to get carried away and report the fault of his bad temper on another person. Harry in this case. And Dudley had just followed.

But Harry has a refuge, a place where they left him alone. This is only an illusion of course but in his closet, it feels like home. It is home. Harry's room. No one seeks him there; he can do what he , he hides his notebooks and his favorite books. All of his "treasures", his broken pencils, notebooks abandoned by Dudley with torn pages. The printing pages from the school secretary office and everything that he had come to gather around. However, he stopped to hang his drawings on the walls of his "room." Once, her aunt opened the cupboard, probably to air it a little because of the smell of dried blood and dried urine, probably as for not disturbing the circle of her friends coming for tea and she threw all of them in the trash bin. After he realized that he was better without any. And regularly he asks permission for cleaning the place with the consent of her aunt. In class, he has no choice but to do even worse than Dudley, but he insists on learning and understanding. And copy everything in his notebooks that he will not forget. There are many things that he must exercise to not leave anything being obliterated.

His body grows but less than Dudley who takes as much in width and magnitude. He hates his body. He does not dare looking in the mirror to see the extent of his injuries, and more. It is too ugly to bear it. His hair is growing in all directions and gives him bad word from his Aunt to "comb this mop of hair of his". Besides, He is small and puny. He is weak and he can't stand the proof of it. The only thing he can stand are his eyes, but even that is not a good thing. They eat his face; they shine too much, like a toad. They only add to his ugliness in his opinion. So yes, he is ugly but at least he is not stupid. This is what comfort him a bit anyway. That and his skills for observation. He cultivates it to the point of obsession.

He does not need much sleep so he often works at night. When he is not too hurt, obviously. Her aunt does not like the neighbors seeing his face when Uncle Vernon could not remember to not let any visible traces. When he had been really bad but more often just because of nothing. It's just something he has learned to accept and tolerate waiting the right time to respond. It's just like his uncle to let off steam, he knows it. It takes advantage of the quick hand of his uncle and had learned to play along. He pretends sometimes just to save him time alone in his closet. Not that it always works well but it doesn't stop him to try. He has taught himself to act. To give them the image that is expected of him.

He heals quickly thanks to his magic. It's hard to channel it though. He focuses on small objects to make them move. It takes time and it's exhausting. And his body has to keep all his energy to not fail. It happens more and more easily though but he lacks confidence in his abilities to use them on his family. But he reassures himself by thinking he has time. Time to train. He knows how to be patient. He tries with heavier objects, methodically reducing the time to successfully move them and then to raise them. He thinks he could do more if he wasn't constantly exhausted by the drudgery and lack of food but it is okay. There is nothing else that he can do about it anyway.

Magic is really fabulous otherwise. It makes him special and he loves to be different. This is something that Dudley and his uncle and aunt can't take from him, something that belongs to him and him alone. If he remembered what it was to be happy, he would probably say that magic makes him be. It's very useful and sometimes surprising. Some time ago, Mrs. Strugberg, the librarian of the district, caught him with a book hidden under the shirt three times too big for him when he was about to go out and grabbed him by the arm. He was deeply frightened. He did not want his aunt to be informed or worse, his uncle. He could no longer return to the library; he could no longer borrow books and forgot the rest of the world.

It couldn't be. He couldn't bear it.

He had looked into her eyes and wished with all his might as the cantankerous old girl would just let him go, hat she would say nothing and forgets about the book hidden under the old clothes of his cousin. To his surprise, the librarian had a moment of confusion and her eyes were glassy before recovering and frowning when she found that she was holding him by the arm. She then had dropped him before ordering him curtly to leave while returning to her office . It gave new perspectives to Harry. He had just to train. Not upon humans, no (not yet), it would be noticed. And it could fail. Then he tried on animals, to submit them to his will. Molar, the beloved dog of the dear Aunt Marge, had been the very first on his list. His first success. It really was a shame this car accident, Harry thought. He hated that dirty pooch so much. It got what it deserved. It was not cruelty, it was just a question to test and perhaps, in revenge for all the times he had to climb trees and stay in hiding for hours waiting for the mutt to be recalled. Just reward indeed. Harry looks forward to the moment when he could do the same on people.

Upon his "family", indeed.

* * *

><p><strong>Harry, 8 and three quarters years old.<strong>

Harry is worried. His uncle looks strangely at him lately. He tells him that he has grown but it does not sound like a compliment. And he often crosses the bathroom when he has the right to wash. Uncle Vernon had even asked that he can bath more often. He said it was to avoid questions of people. But Harry knows better. There are those times when Aunt Petunia is going out and where he is alone with Uncle Vernon as Dudley is at Piers or other of his friends and Harry does not like what his Uncle does. He starts watching TV and asks him to sit next to him. It puts a DVD in the drive, one of these discs behind the books he never opened in the library. He puts his fat fingers on his thigh, caressing it while the other ... Harry does not like watching Uncle Vernon's movies. And he does not like watching Uncle Vernon when he looks at these films.

There are boys in Uncle Vernon's movies. They are always naked. And there are men. Uncle Vernon loves them, those films. He passes his hand in his pants and his face always ends up being red, as if about to faint. Afterwards, he enjoys spending his hands on his shoulders and his large hands sometimes linger on the buttocks of Harry and ... there. That puts him uncomfortable, he does not like it but he does not know how to react. They are always moist, the hands of his uncle. And he sometimes is asked to remove his shirt to pass his hand over his stomach and chest but he did not ask Harry to do what the other boys in the movies. Not yet, whispers the little voice in his head.

Besides, Harry does not know what they do as he always diverts his eyes somewhere else when the noise of the people on the TV increases and when Uncle Vernon starts breathing heavily. He does not know and doesn't want to. He feels it's something wrong. Today, Uncle Vernon came early and Harry feels that he is once again drunk. It's a bad sign, Harry knows it. Aunt Petunia does not like that either and takes this as an excuse to take Dudley to the grocery store to get an ice cream while waiting for his " drunken of a husband" to sober. She is very angry and words fuse. Aunt Petunia gets fed up and leaves, slamming the door. Uncle Vernon just drank too much and too often lately.

They argue as much. And Uncle Vernon watches his films often as of late.

As soon as she left, Uncle Vernon asks Harry to come. He is badly drunk and goes automatically to the bar for serving himself more easily before deciding glasses weren't needed, drinking at the bottle while flopping on the couch with floral motifs. He barks to him to undress. He is furious and his uncle is dangerous when he accumulates anger and alcohol. Harry is too surprised to react properly. His uncle then grabbed his shirt and torn it before removing his baggy pants. Harry doesn't know what to do, scared as he is. He never saw his uncle like that and doesn't know how to act. He tries to think for a strategy in order to step out without too much damage, but found nothing. His mind is empty.

Harry gets scared, really scared. It paralyzes and he can't force himself to move. He can't concentrate on his magic, she seems to flee him, betraying him. When she was the most needed, there is nothing. Uncle Vernon down the underwear that was once Dudley's. And then, his pants. Noisily. And he is sweating. So much. His big sausage for fingers pass over his buttocks on his chest ... and also… there. Harry tries to retreat but the grip of his uncle is too strong, stronger than him. He uses his other hand to loosen his belt but this time not to hit Harry. He lowered his pants which falls on his ankles. His sex is horrible, straight and puffed. So ugly.

- Suck me.

Harry does not want to but the iron fist of his uncle forces him to approach this thing glowing ... and turgescent.

- You have no interest in trying to bite or escape, boy, for if you do I could really get me... angry..

Harry knows Uncle Vernon is not joking and that he has no choice.

**oOo**

Aunt Petunia and Dudley have returned as if nothing had happened. Uncle Vernon is in a good mood now and he easily reconciles with his wife by inviting her to the theater the next day. Her aunt does not like that he drinks so much but the opportunity to go out make it up for her to reconcile with her husband. As if nothing had changed. But Harry, he, knows. He keeps thinking about it even if he tries not to but can't help it. Harry is shut up in his closet and tries not to vomit what his uncle forced him to swallow. Even if he really wants to. He tries to forget those fingers which dug and stained him from the inside, and the hand that caressed in places where it should never have been. Now Harry knows what is in the films of Uncle Vernon. Above all, he tries to forget what would have happened if Aunt Petunia had not returned sooner than expected, if Uncle Vernon had not heard the car up the driveway, had it not been forced to stop ... He feels disgusted, weak and helpless. Terrorized, paralyzed.

And dirty. So dirty.

**oOo**

It's been a week since "the incident" and Harry had put all of his talent to avoid being alone with Uncle Vernon. He feels that it irritates him. He even paid attention to being beaten in front of his Aunt. It is pitiful. Harry is so worried that he can no longer concentrate on his chores or study without his hands shaking. He is afraid of his uncle as never before. Corrections, screams and insults, he can deal with, he's used to. But that ... That morning, Uncle Vernon seemed cheerful, even joyful. It's always bad news in Harry's book. The child will not know why until his aunt ordered him to come prepare the luggage of Dudley as they were going to visit Aunt Marge on the weekend before leaving for vacation.

Vernon has to remain as he has "significant business going on" before joining them on Sunday morning she said to him absently, not noticing that the boy froze. She said that she would left him something to eat during their absence, which is limited to a few cans and a loaf of bread already half stale. His tone is colder when she reminds him that he had better not to get noticed. And to do all of the chores' list for their return. Uncle Vernon went whistling that morning asking Harry to bring him his briefcase before slipping into his ear that they could resume soon "where they had stopped last time, without fearing of being disturbed ".

His uncle was smiling grimly as he was speaking and Harry made a decision.

**oOo**

He puts the suitcases in the trunk of the car and looks at them going this Saturday morning. His uncle called from within but he does not intend to go. Harry, being unable to express his emotions anymore, has worked an incredible sense of observation, perception and understanding almost frightening by his logic and rationality towards the world where he lives. He does not know whether this is right or if it's wrong. It's just like that. He knows he has nowhere to go and he knows that no one will believe or would be powerless to help him. Ms. Crawley wanted to help. But Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were stronger than she was and they won. And the others acted as if nothing had happened. There is no one to rely on. Even his magic abandoned him when needed. He also knows he can't escape forever his uncle, and even if he escapes for now, he will eventually be found and forced to return. For Uncle Vernon could finish what he started when "no one could come to disturb him". For this horrible smile on his face to take place. For Harry to be forced to act like in the movies. He is aware he is only eight years old and that he can't survive alone, but he does not want to return and accept that.

He can't. He doesn't want to. He won't.

He gets the little bundle that he had prepared and discreetly hidden in the bushes. There are the things the most precious to him in it. In the same time, It's the only things that he really own. He will throw them away as soon as he can because he doesn't want to leave them at the Dursleys. Never mind if he never sees them again, they will remain his secret. His very own secret. He runs away, through the gardens without being noticed while he hears his uncle yelling at the top of his lungs against him. He will not return. Never. He won't let them win. He reaches the bus stop and pay a ticket to London with the little money he has, or rather the one that he had stolen from his Aunt wallet when she wasn't looking.

The sky is gray, but he does not care. He wants to enjoy the trip. For that day will be his last one.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, end of the prologue part.<strong>

Next time, in two weeks from now, there will be the meeting between our little boy and the dark Potions Master.

If you want to give me some words of support (or just point out my mistakes upon grammar and spelling errors...), you know how to do it.

I remind the **anonymous rewiewers** that I reply on my profile homepage.

**Bye!**


	3. The Master of the Dungeons

HI everyone!

I'm sorry for the late publishing of this one but it is a long one so... forgive me?

And I must really thank all of the ones who gave me a rewiew to suport me. It warmed my heart as I could compare with the french version (and all of the ones who choose to put my story on the alert or favorite list without giving any feedback) where rewiews were more numerous, making me think that maybe I shouldn't have tried to make a translation as it's much work to me.

But then, you did it and I'm now determined to do it until the end! Yes!

I'm searching for a beta to help me and I hope that the one I contacted and who has accepted will answer me quickly as to rewiew the previous chapters and the new ones from now.

**Well, stop the crap and have a nice reading!**

Disclaimer : you know who I'm not so why should you even think I'm who I'm not?

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

**The Master of the Dungeons**

* * *

><p>"Severus, my boy. To what do I owe the honor of this visit? Lemon drop?" The Heademaster asked, eyes sparkling as usual, inviting the young Potions Master to sit down.<br>"No thank you", Severus politely refused."I came to inform you of my departure. I won't be back until the last week of the holidays", he says curtly, wishing to limit the conversation to what was necessary, declining the offered seat.  
>"Plans for this summer?" Albus asked, his eyes amused but mostly curious.<br>"Yes", he replied soberly, tired of the unwavering indiscretion of his mentor.  
>"And may I inquire..." the headmaster began.<br>"No." The young professor added, grumbling and wondering how, by Merlin, the old fool managed to make him feel guilty like this:" You'll see when I return."  
>"A surprise?" The headmaster exclaimed, his eyes twinkling full force.<br>"Yes but I will not say more. It is not sure... yet", he growled, uncomfortable.  
>"By Merlin! You're getting married?" The old man cheerfully clapped while his former student was standing stiffly, exasperated but outwardly impassive as usual.<p>

He held on the urge to roll eyes towards the sky in front of Albus inappropriate jokes and manages to cut the interview quickly with his mentor before returning to his quarters to fetch some belongings which he took with him before using his private floo to go to Spinner's End. It was not his final destination but that, the headmaster did not need to know it. Not yet at least. Perhaps will he tell him when returning at the end of summer. Albus was his mentor after all. He rushed into the fire, announcing the official but not final destination. All the communications and even the floo network were enchanted to be automatically redirected towards his real place of residence in the case, not likely but possible, where one would try to contact him during his vacation. People would have a view of the inside of his childhood house of Spinner's End because he made sure that the welcoming room was exactly fitted out as the original, dimensions included.

One is paranoiac or isn't.

It's not that he was ashamed of his home or that it was a taboo but he did not want to get into the explanations this would unavoidably create and, even with Albus, he wanted to keep some cards until he feels ready to share his secrets. The headmaster was informed of the death of his grandfather, but as Severus' father was a Muggle, it had not occurred to him that it could be from the magical side of his family. In particular, the Prince side, as his mother, Eileen Prince, was disowned and disinherited, her name being completely removed from the family genealogy. Without thinking about extending the ban to her heirs. But this would have required that he reveals that he was the "Half-Blood Prince" and this he did not intend to. It was unfortunate enough that Lucius was aware of. Of course, Severus undertook to make him hold his tongue.

Set a Slytherin to catch one another Slytherin.

During their "services" to the Dark Lord, Lucius had proved to be a skillful strategist, cunning and influential, knowing how to handle relationships with the same success as had once his father, Abraxas, but the blond was also an excellent duelist, fully able of opposing Bellatrix, making him a formidable opponent during raids. However, his "enthusiasm" had sometimes had the misfortune of leading him in situations where the support of Severus had proved valuable because he tended to lose all sense of reality. Severus had avoided him more than once to get caught by the Aurors while saving the unfortunate victims as much as possible without being noticed by the blond. It had cost him some debts of honor that Severus kept carefully up, allowing him to uproot his friend's promise to maintain absolute secrecy about his legacy. And he kept other tricks up his sleeve in case where it would prove them useful, as the information on the covers of Malfoy Manor, where dark artifacts were stored with prohibited poisons. However, he hoped never to have to use these. It merely amused him to hold the great Lucius Malfoy in the palm of his hand even if he did not intend to abuse it.

Lucius Malfoy was pedantic, arrogant, manipulative and racist. But he was his friend, too. His opinion on the "pure" blood and others "bloodtraitors" could not be clearer, but Severus knew that this manichean vision of the wizarding society was deeply rooted in him, so much so that it wouldn't even come to Lucius the idea of questioning it, it had been printed to him with enough Crucios and torture "apprenticeship" through the good offices of the austere, if not brutal, education of one Abraxas Malfoy. They were close despite the fact that Lucius was four years older [1]. Close was to much of a word at first but Lucius had enabled him to be left alone despite being a half-blood, at least among the Slytherins, during the rise of the Lord of Darkness when at school.

During his first year, he was accustomed to see Lucius appears in the common room doing nothing more than sitting at his side but the signal was clear to all. It was like a kind of silent recognition, even if the boys had never spoken with each other and the youngest often wondered what he did to earn the favor of the elder even though he was far from complaining. He still remembered what they said about him at school, the sneers and comments on his unkempt appearance, his greasy hair and his attraction to black magic. Before Lucius' intervention, he had to always watch his back and the essays and his others belongings which were to disappear were not uncommon. After, though, his comrades had just ignored him. It only was the Marauders that the Malfoy heir's influence of hadn't stopped.

It was only at the beginning of Severus' third year, when he had returned after a particularly rough summer and that, despite the insistence of Lily, he obstinately refused to see Madam Pomfrey, that their relationship increased from mere knowledge related to "friendly", as much as it was possible between two Slytherins. The oldest pretended to have a question about potions to drive the black-haired boy in his Prefect's room. He asked - ordered would be more accurate - to take off his robes and his shirt in order to treat his wounds that were still raw. With reluctance, the lanky boy whose body was covered with bruises and lashes had consented, ashamed to reveal his weaknesses and angered with himself for not having managed to conceal his pain. Lucius had cared for him in silence with thoughtful and precise gestures, without asking for explanations. However, before Severus went away, confused by this behavior, Lucius had detained him, embarrassed, and had himself removed his clothes, revealing the brands of black magic spells. Thanks to Abraxas.

Severus brewed several potions and balms for days to counter the effects of the dark magic. And, with the utmost discretion, he made a risky descent into the Slughorn's reserve . It had sealed their friendship. Although they'd never discussed it. Even if one would not speak of trust (they were Slytherins, after all), it was comforting to have someone to turn to. However, no one never intended to confide about the origin of their pain. Anyway, they both knew that nothing could remedy the situation. Abraxas Malfoy had just enough of his name, prestige and influence to cover it up and with Severus' father being a Muggle, his son didn't want being withdrawn from his mother's care because of her complicity in the abuse. So they preferred to endure. Lucius Severus had initiated him to old magic and ancient runes while Severus maintained the oldest in potions (to the delight of Slughorn and his "Slugclub" which enabled Severus later to be integrated in with the Lucius's support despite Slughorn's reluctance). They even shared their ambitions and goals for the future.

After Lucius's graduation, they took time to write to each others regularly. There was nothing very explicit in their letters for the ones who didn't know the code on which they had agreed, reading on sentences made of convolutions, innuendo and metaphors as the Green and Silver ever used. This strenghtened their relationship. Now, Severus knew that his friend still adhered to the the Dark Lord's ideals. He also knew that the man was not that bad. Abraxas had only made him learn his lesson well. The patriarch had "surprisingly" passed away because of a severe case of Dragon Pox shortly after the end of Lucius' schooling. Severus knew that his friend was probably involved but said nothing when the elder asked him where to get some germs of this disease, hard to cure at the time. The hatred towards his father was deeply embedded in his flesh and still haunted him. The Potions Master was well aware that the raids were used to satisfy the need for revenge that still placated Lucius. One way to get what he had really wanted : blood shed, cries and pain. Better and more to his liking than the too soft death prepared to avoid suspicion. At least, it was his way of coping until the blonde became a father himself. His behavior had changed, even if he wore the same neutral mask before everyone. Severus just knew him to well.

Yet, he had feared the scheme would reproduce with Draco's birth because of the arranged marriage of Narcissa Black with Lucius. However, if it wasn't love, the respect and gentleness - in private - that the young woman provided stabilized Lucius. And, without doubt, even if the subject would probably never be addressed, it changed Lucius' view of the Drak Lord' methods. To preserve his new family. Severus had never seen a smile or a more sincere affection from Lucius as it was the day of his son's birth. The attachment to his child was real but the hard education he had received left indelible marks as for showing his affection, Lucius didn't know better than use expensive gitfs and instillated the same principles that he was himself given when a child. Less the crucios ad curses. Those, he reserved to the house elves, unloading the excess of blind fury he couldn't control. And perhaps, even if he had no proof, on a few unwary muggles. But, as much as he wanted to do well, Lucius had overwhelming expectations on his child. He required only the best of Draco, in all areas, in private as in public. Too caught upon his own desire for recognition and pride from his father, the boy struggled to meet his father's wishes. It was like a vicious circle that the Master of Malfoy's Estate could not break despite the silent support of Narcissa.

As Draco's godfather, Severus tried, within reason and with the desire to preserve his friendship with Lucius, to take the boy away from his father's influence, to allow him to formulate his own opinions, but the worship of Draco toward his father did not provide him a lot of hopes so he just made himself present for the boy, being close enough to him to be a trusted one. Until Draco could mature a little. And while he regretted the selfishness and spoiled character of his godson, due to an excess of toys and whims met, he knew that the boy was different from Lucius. The loving character of Narcissa was clearly present in her son while the latter strove to copy as best as possible his father. Changing Lucius' views was not conceivable as there were issues that could not be afforded to be approached without compromising the status quo of their relationship.

He got in the dungeons without really paying attention, grabbed his bag and rushed to the fireplace. Soon arrived, he noticed with satisfaction that the house elves had done their job and even though the place was sad, dark, poorly furnished, it was as clean as possible and seemed inhabited, which was indeed the objective of the Potions Master. He did not linger and returned immediately to Prince Cottage. Once there, he threw the spell deflecting the communications which would give him the peace he had longed for the rest of the year, while assuring him that no one entered his home without his consent. After that, he headed for the exit of the room, a copy of the one of Spinner's End, quickly dropping his belongings in his rooms before finally going to his favorite room : his potions lab. He entered cautiously and was pleased that his instructions had been followed to the letter.

The house elves had made sure to keep the room in the perfect state to start brewing in accordance with his instructions. Empty jars and bottles were cleaned and left available. Pots of any shape, size and material had been scrubbed and left ready for use. He glanced at the clock above his desk and was pleased that he had followed his schedule. He still had two hours before diner, he would have time to put away his papers, to prepare his search session and to answer his mail. Severus Snape was an organized man, he liked accuracy and did not like unpredictability. Even as his years as a spy where he had learned to adapt and improvise, that did not mean that he liked it. The slightest change in his schedule made him irritable and he hated having to be interrupted during a task unless it was an absolute necessity and who dared to disturb him without having a real reason would face his wrath.

He put his paperwork in order, sorting which required immediate attention from what could wait between his letters and notes. Once everything was ready, he began to work. It did not take him over an hour to finish with his correspondence and prepare shipments of its instructions. For one, to his financial advisor to Gringotts, then to his magical lawyer and finally to his Slytherins. He had entered into an agreement with the goblins and, with a confidentiality and loyalty clause, they were dealing with the profitability of his vault and business for a fee while he simply specified that they were in close contact with his lawyer to get the level of the supplies necessary for the prosperity of his business appropriated without having to intervene. To him, exchanges with his advisor were to be limited to be informed of his assets, their distribution and to give his outlook for investments while his adviser made the funds available by reorganizing the cash balance when necessary.

To his great satisfaction. The financial side was nothing attractive in his eyes.

Severus Snape had more than one secret but one of them was that he was the proud creator and sole beneficiary of one of the few industrial enterprises in the magical world. Apart from brooms' and sweets' companies, most of the needs of the wizarding world were relayed by craft, the population being not high enough to develop a need for mass production. With some exceptions, including Severus' field : potions. Upon the death of his grandfather, he had been faced with responsibilities and duties which he did not feel ready at all to assume. And for which he had not been trained. The paperwork, the decisions which were his to make and the support, friendly if interested of Lucius, forced him to take the matters in his own hand, outing him of his morbid apathy .

That was five years ago.

Since the death of Lily and of the Lord, Severus had only withdrawn into himself. He thought only of his classes, his snakes and private research to get his Mastery in Potions. He was especially bitter and unhappy. Even when Lily had ceased all relations with him at the end of their fifth year as there wasn't even the hope of reconciliation anymore. Even more than the day the announcement of her marriage with James Potter was published in the newspaper when he still hoped to tell her about his feelings, even knowing that there wouldn't be any reciprocity. Even more than when the Lord had said they were, with their newborn baby, the target of the prophecy because he still thought that he could saved her. He found himself alone with only his regrets and the unbearable weight of his sins. His responsibility.

Even the defense of Dumbledore before the Wizengamot had a bitter taste after her death. He almost wished to have stayed in Azkaban to earn the punishment he deserved for his mistakes which had cost him the only woman he'd ever loved and whom he had failed. Two months in the putrid prison weren't enough. He wanted more. More pain, more hurt to match his own. Lucius had taken advantage of the death of one old Horatius Prince to help him sort the properties to be restored, those for sale, the state of his estates and funds while maintaining absolute discretion. He was forced, more or less skillfully he had to admit, to stop feeling sorry for himself and begin to live again. Lucius had been a quiet but unwavering support there. He had helped arrange his affairs with the goblins, suggesting directions and even using the affection of his own son for making Severus regain control over his life.

Since then, Severus had been converted - for the better or the worse he didn't know - into a businessman. His mastery was obtained almost eight years ago, one year after Lily's death, and since then, his free time newly found was called first into grieving and then to his growing business. And he was sometimes absent from Hogwarts for that very reason. At first, the headmaster was suspicious that his protégé kept close contact with a known Death Eater (though officially cleared by the Department), but Severus had pretended wanting to use that friendship to help "save" Draco and to consider the possible return of the Dark Lord, further resuming his activities as a spy. It had resolved the issue even if by a half-truth. Thus, holidays or Severus' absences were for tutoring Draco or searching rare plants or ingredients to harvest even if the Headmaster couldn't imagine the framework within which now he was doing his experiences.

Severus remembered with some amusement how Lucius had, inadvertently of course, trailing a few papers on legal statutes and of law subterfuges used to set up his company. Lucius was pretty stubborn once he had an idea in mind, his tact being largely struck by it. But it was still a fair way to show his concern for his friend. A strange relationship as the two protagonists had never mentioned what was of their friendship. There was a kind of mutual understanding and respect, despite the tacit underlying problems. Lucius probably felt doubt and uncertainty toward Severus's loyalty as Severus knew that Lucius' was mainly due to his father even if he actually sympathized with the cause. "A Malfoy does not bow to anyone" had once confessed his friend when subtly questioned about the depth of his allegiance sometimes before the end of the war. He did not pursue the subject then. It was a discussion that it was best avoided in the interest of the delicate balance of their friendship.

He had followed the "suggestions" of his friend. The idea itself was brilliant, he has to admit it. One of the basic rules to know about the legal and administrative system of the wizarding world was that the tangle of laws, regulations, directives and other legislation was such that even the most advanced magic and lawyers were easily lost. There was no ranking and it was not uncommon to find contradicting laws or one paraphrasing what was said by another. Similarly, the texts were not updated and very old edicts continued to remain valid and quite legal although forgotten instead of being updated or removed. Including the status of the Nomen Occultus Registrater. It was a very old convention, little used and almost forgotten, dating from the time of Merlin himself. You were just to make a request for registration with the Registry under an alias receiving then a complete anonymity of the holder and a unique and protective legal status earning you the most absolute and inviolable confidentiality even towards the Ministry through old spells and blood curses quite unbreakable because linked to their creators since long dead. He therefore had a legal personality as any ordinary citizen except the rights of election and representation, and even then, he had the opportunity to open a vault in his assumed name from Gringotts.

Thus the company "Praestes & Potions" was born.

Why not selling potions of his composition under his own name? Simply because of the prejudices of the wizarding world. Although the youngest Potions Master made since the last three hundred years, his status as a former Death Eater made the public wary of him even if his contribution as a spy had saved thousands of lives. Wizards were hypocrites when one knew that most of the population had been too cowardly to take part in the war effort or to get involved even a minimum but always ready to disparage and discard as dirt those who had the honesty to reveal themselves. He was not even 17 when he was branded, not even on age legally speaking! And he paid tribute to his mistakes. Heavily so to say trying to bear with a guilt that, at the time, he was not sure how to survive one day more,thinking about it each bloody day. Then he became Andreas Praestes and, somewhere, it was his personal revenge on those people who thought they were better than him.

He had decided to buy a warehouse in the area of Aberdeenshire, northeast Scotland. Specifically near the site of Dunottar Castle where a building, richly decorated with many muggles repelling charms, Blood protections, runes and arithmantic circles, was one of the "small" Prince's family properties that was Severus' fortunate legacy as heir and one that he had decided to keep. Fortunate because the building known as Prince Cottage and its gardens were unplottable and subjected to a modified version of the fidelius charm for which he was the Secret Keeper. Also, he had the advantage of being able to benefit from the Muggle technology due to the proximity of Stonehaven just two miles [2] of the castle. Most wiazrds end witches only retained that muggle and magical equipments did not mix harmoniously when, really, the coexistence of the two was possible as the two did not mix. For example, an enchanted Muggle radio powered by electricity to automatically change the channel based on the hours would be made made deficient or destroyed but if you just simply hold on its original function, there was no danger in magical environment, no interference between the two occurring. It was only a question of energy. There only was conflict between electricity and magic.

But Severus had a preference for Muggle lighting rather than magical candles with traditional spells that were limited both in efficiency over time and having to be renewed regularly. Besides, there were some muggle technology that he used in his lab such as microscopes, centrifuges, distillers etc. He just loved the way in which he could take the best of both of the worlds. All communications and requests passed through Spinner's End, keeping the advantage of his real location secret while not revealing any way to find him and every communications or visitors had to make themselves known and authorized by Severus before anything. If one were stupid enough for trying to breach the security wards, they were automatically repelled. Thus, the Potions Master was certain to have peace and not to be bothered by unwelcome visits. Sorry Albus.

He recruited, through his solicitor, a team of Brewers and Potions Experts[3]. The criteria were stringents. He wanted to be able to rely on competent and trustworthy people. Each employee was subject to a confidentiality clause which functioned as a kind of unbreakable oath, preventing disclosure of any information whether it was willingly or not. Spying was common in the potions field and Severus did not want the contents of recipes duly patented to be disclosed. He already had to leave the composition of Veritaserum to the DMLE at the end of the war for the Death Eaters' trials as well as the Wolfsbane Potion even if it was his thesis project because Albus tought a great idea to demonstrate his willingness to protect the magical world to the Wizengamot. Without talking to him first. Because it was "for the greater good."

Merlin how he had hated that!

That was part of the why Albus was left in the dark in regards of his legacy. But now, he was beginning to hope that he could share it with his mentor. Because that was something that he can be proud of and, maybe, maybe there was a tiny hope in him to see pride from his mentor. His current strategy was simple but ingenious. He was officially the only one to do the creation and development of new potions before giving his team the task of the massive production under the supervision of a cell quality wich composition turned regularly, the controller becoming the controlled and vice versa to ensure constant vigilance. There was no way to let go on the market a batch of a lower quality. His reputation depended of it and that was why the product were so well sold with prices higher than normal. "Always the best" was the motto. He had also hired the services of a Spells and Charms Master and of a Transfiguration Mistress as an additional requirement for the most complicated potions as to establish a full protocol of administration.

He always exchanged with them under the confidentiality of a glamour charm that protected his identity about the opportunities, changes and calculations necessary for the creation or adaptation of existing recipes by owls, floo interviews or when meeting every three months within the premises of Gringotts. There was no better than the goblins when one wanted to protect his secrets. For a small fee, of course. He proceeded to regularly get samples of the work of his staff to test and determine the ones deserving to be awarded and making an official and public recognition within the company to encourage efforts, given a good bonus. He welcomed carefully any suggestion or idea and responded personally seeing as to associate the name of the employee when his (or her) contribution lead to develop a new draft incorporating an incentive benefit to him (or her). And if an employee developed a new single potion (which had not yet arrived), he would make sure in advance that there was nothing to do with company's ones or his own projects and would authorized the employee to file his patent under his own name.

Needless to say, applications poured in faster than the vacancies.

Since the inception of the company, in addition to the known and improved potions (Such as Pepper-up, Bye-Bye rheumatisms, Pain potion relievers, new skin potions ...), three new healing potions had been patented along with other more ... "popular" and much more lucrative on the market (What Color?, Yeti Hair Growth, Young Almost Forever, Twinkles Nails ...), which were perfects to sustain the cash's need for long research in the healing field. St. Mungo was one of the main customers in addition to the traditional apothecaries but Lucius had recommended to try International Exportation and since last year, Praestes' potions were sold across Europa. And Severus had decided to set up an online sales system for September for individual customers a catalog available by owl delivery for products which didn't required any healers monitoring, but he was thinking about hired a healer team, with St Mungo's support, to provide it.

With these progressist and lucrative methods, the staff were extremely loyal and faithful to Severus even though it would never occur to him to appear in front of them without glamours. If his students knew that he could pursue a strategy of positive encouragement, they would think that Severus were under the Imperius cruse, or something like that. The Potions Master was not, however, and contrary to popular belief, stingy with compliments with his students, even those outside of Slytherin, but unfortunately he had to admit that the opportunity was scarce and he did make it discreetly. The chickpeas' brains of his students were just hearing and seeing his abrupt speech and cold look without even trying to understand the reasons beneath his anger. So, to imagine them addressing the issues... So yes, he was the bat of the dungeons, but he preferred to sacrifice to the welfare of his students and the delicacy of the art of potions any concern about what his reputation went through.

It was therefore not really surprising that the number of optimal were so low because he would never tolerate anything but excellence. And he hoped also an increase in Potions Master vocations that had greatly decreased over the last century, the course being difficult and, so to say, expensive. That was why Severus had founded, under his alias as Praestes, a scholarship for apprenticeships and with a recommendation from him (as Andreas Praesta of course) for those who wanted to commit themselves in this direction. The scholarship included funding of the apprenticeship, subjected to going to its completion (otherwise a full refund was due immediately) and regular testing to ensure the maintenance of the seriousness of the apprentice. It included too the accommodation costs and a monthly allowance for food and clothing. What made his work even more important as Andreas Praestes because the prestige of his recommendation was proportional to his success. For now, six candidates stood. What was encouraging but not enough.

As for the Muggles, wizards had a metabolism that can mutate and develop resistance to addiction to potions. They had to be steadily improved and corrected to take into account the evolution of their effects. Except it wasn't an easy reach with the constant decreasing of competent persons over the last hundred years. Apart from Severus, Britain had six three Potions Master whose three were more than eighty years old and where the "youngest", except himself, was more than fifty years old. Even worse, only two (including himself) were really working. The others lived from the receipts generated by their patents developed in their youth and were content by just improving their own formulas and offering expensive apprenticeships based on a zero selectivity in order to reinforce their own prestige but not really involved themselves with their apprentices who often were lazy lads boasting about their apprenticeship without actually doing any work.

These fake apprenticeships generally resulted without any validation by the International League of Potions Masters because the tests did not include just being able of brewing but a complete test to verify that the candidate had a real understanding of ingredients, magical or not, and about their interactions. Of course, this meant a thorough knowledge of formulas, original and amended, as well as thorough research in order to meet the League's high standards finalized on a questionnaire unchanged for nearly five hundred years despite its updating. The secret was jealously guarded and any candidate had taken an Unbreakable Oath to never reveal the contents in any way whatsoever. Severus was fully aware of the gaps in his field and wanted to prevent the anticipated shortfall looming.

Becoming a Potions Master was really a hard road which explained the low number of Mastery held even if the public or the various ministries in the world did not realize (or simply closed their eyes on it). The knowledge could be lost if the transmission wasn't insured. Alas, the Masters themselves had their fair share of responsibility in the problem ahead. Severus himself, hoped to find among his own pupils some future apprentice but the ones he had approached through the Praestes' scholarship had all Praesta politely declined, preferring the fast and rewarding career of a Potions Brewer to the long and ungrateful way (with no guarantee of success) of a Potions Master. That was discouraging.

He held some hopes towards his godson who was a natural brewer and for who he hoped his interest wouldn't stop over time. Or which would not be thwarted by the ambitions Lucius placed on his only son. The six candidates sponsored by Praestes' scholarship were aware of the boldness of the way they chose to go but they were motivated and for now, none of them had failed him. The only requirement was to maintain constant efforts in their learning, validated by their respective masters (often abroad, alas) and work for his company for at least three years with patents integrated into Praestes & Potions. This was rather a favor for a new Potions Master when one wanted to make a name of himself (or herself). He had begun to offer, for the most advanced apprentices, some subjects for experimentation. It was under discussion but he relied on them to see results. And if he drew a profit while doing it...

He wasn't the Head of Slytherin for no reason, after all.

When he raised his nose back on the clock, he realized that he was well past diner time. He called one of the house elves, a gift from his inheritance, for bringing him a sandwich. Two hours later, he left his office, satisfied with his work and went to his apartments. Prince Cottage was more a country house than anything else according to the criteria of the Prince family, but it suited perfectly to Severus. The house was much greater than Spinner's End and more comfortable, but compared to Malfoy Manor, it was at most a mansion. The ground floor consisted of an entrance opening onto a large lobby and leading to the living room, a boudoir contigous to a private bathroom and to the kitchens, the reception hall which extended to cosy veranda under which were a peaceful garden and fountain. A solid wooden staircase leaded to the upper floors.

The first floor consisted mainly of four rooms - including his own - each with a private bath and desk, and one boudoir. Finally, the second and top floor was devoted to the music room (unused), the guest quarters and a games room (used only by Draco few times he had come). The attic space was home to the house staff while all the basement was dedicated to his laboratory, his private office and included a ritual chamber for which he had no use. But the thing that Severus was most proud was probably the development of the library. He had collected in each properties (before decided to sell some of them) of his newly inherited Estate homes some unique and unvaluable books, carefully collected for centuries by his family.

The library itself was spread over the floors. To the ground floor to the second floor in a heap of three wall panels interspersed with whole shelves of books in their overhanging birch stairs and sliding scales. The whole surmounted by a magnificent glass cupola, supported by pillars of polished wood and wrought iron structure of ornamental wrought classic cross, extending from the ceiling on the top wall panel and allowing the daylight to illuminate the place [4]. Severus had spent a great time at the start to organize it. Thanks to magic of course, otherwise he would have been for many years to identify and classify all. There was still plenty of empty space though but he took the time to look for rare volumes and supplement existing collections. He thought to leave them all to Hogwarts after his death.

He went to the first floor and entered his room. Contrary to rumors, the "overgrown bat" enjoyed the light and fresh air, even though he had few opportunities to enjoy it except for his daily jogging and morning exercise, which was why his room sported a large bay window with a large view over the gardens from the balcony. He internally thanked the house elves, noticing a bath set and fresh pajamas at his disposal on the edge of the bed. Before falling asleep, he devoted himself to his Occlumency exercises, by sorting on the day events before setting tomorrow's program. He would go on the Muggle side of London. Several weeks ago, he had spotted a book in a library on Marylebone High Street, which was full of powerful muggle repelling charms. The book was old but its actual content had posed some problems to check without actually attracting the unwanted attention of the muggles or the Ministry. It was necessary to identify the protective charms used and it was not without trouble before finding their counter-spells without disabling the muggle repelling ones, avoiding to alert the Ministry's officials because, at best, the work would have been confiscated and stored in the depths of a dusty drawer until an analysis that would probably never occurred, or at worst, destroyed altogether.

Severus was very aware that many of the books and wizarding knowledge could be lost progressively from old families extincted without heir or with squib who couldn't claim the title. This resulting - in the best case - with public auction in case of debts not recovered or, for the most common case, to frozen voults at Gringotts until a distant heir would come claim them, depriving the magical world of precious work and informations. Also, it happened that with a long line of squib, an old family would go to the muggle world hoping for more opportunities to their kind and forgetting theirs origins through time. Thus, some rare books could be found resulting on the wish for a few pounds from their unknowingly owners.

He asked the salesman of the library to put aside the book he coveted for a fee as he wanted to take time to ascertain its authenticity with the registry of literary genealogy office in the Ministry, listing all the books published since the beginning of the wizarding edition witch (which was well before themuggle one). And he was not disappointed. He had almost allowed himself a smile of triumph while emerging from the shop. He had got hold of a forgotten piece of Paracelsus: "Transfiguration applied to regenerative potions: compared essays". A treasure. Muggles only could read for obscure esoteric and worthless incantations but the real content was far more interesting. After having removed the protection spells, he could flip in detail the penwritten volume and, despite the pompous style of the 16th century wizard, he was soon able to consider the great interest of this work.

Paracelsus was better known for his astronomy and alchemy work than his skills in other areas of magic, but this book, written at the end of his life and published in a handful of copies, presented a number of incantations and theories of magic, most of which were either forgotten or discredited making it a wealth of valuable information. At this time when the wizarding world wasn't frightened by their own magic by providing it absurd qualifications an dividing it by light as good and dark as evil. Blood magic, magical essence modification, old magic and all of the now forgotten or forbidden knowledge feared by a handful of bigots and cowards.

And a knowledge which was perfectly adapted to his new project.

There were spells or dameges that traditional healing failed to fix. You could repair a broken arm in most cases except curses for one didn't have the proper counter curse. Some skelegrow, a little spell to settle the area of action and that was that. But there were parts of the skeleton that could not be so easily fixed. Particularly for facial surgery. Hearing for example, was based on the eardrum but also on the bones of the stirrup, the hammer and the anvil. Besides the delicate cartilage led flag. When there were damaged bone or cartilage, there was unfortunately little that could be done except set up a magical hearing aid replacement or, at best, an extremely expensive prosthesis but this always resulted in many complications of the magical core that tried to offset this unnatural imbalance. It was the same for nose cartilages, thyroids, bronchi or intervertebral discs of the spine to name a few.

For nerves and muscles, the issue was more complex even though there were some good medicine, like the dittany essence, but beyond certain damage, the healers found themselves helpless with little to no choice as amputation, when it was possible at least. Little was known about the physiology and many were reluctant to "open" a patient. Many were also outraged by muggle practices, though sometimes very effective. The brain was a separate area that few were brave enough to try to understand it. Psycho-pathological damages were given to Masters occlumens and legillimens duly registered at the Ministry while the physical problems were difficult to dissolve. Touching the brain directly affected the magical core and no one know exactly why. Sometimes, one died a few day after what seemed at first to be a successfull operation. That was the main reason why intervening was the last resort as the chance of survival were low in case of serious injury. The wizarding world was really late about brain damage than the muggle one.

That also was the reason that beside the natural magical shield arouand this sensitive part, quidditch payers and referees had to wear a mandatory shielding charm to protect their head.

Severus' issue was mainly focused on the identification of formulas which could help reproducing and developing the missing or damaged parts without impacting the adjacent structure. The idea that hes wanted to use was simple: create a potion that can reproduce the cartilage or bone reached, to precisely identify the affected parties by targeting the action with a remodeling spell. Easier said than done as he was missing datas and ideas to get around the unfortunate effects of the interactions that often lead to results going from very dangerous to disastrous with unsightly growths or a structure weakening of its entirety. But the book that he would get the following day would perhaps open the way to new tips and insights. The summer was coming, yet again, charged by his various tasks: mentoring Draco, brewing the hospital wings potions for the next school year, manage his own business, take time to lead his own research, oversee his team meetings, corresponding with his snakes ... in addition to which, upon resumption of his classes, would be points deductions, detentions, correcting exams and homeworks of his "students" (dunderhead was more fitted), duties as a Head of House... Severus Snape was a definitely a busy man.

And he was perfectly fine with it.

This will help him to prevent bending under the guilt and remorse and to deal with his bad choices. He had been led by his bitterness over the loss of his friend and childhood sweetheart, his anger towards the Marauders and the lack of sanctions upon their "pranks" (the Shrieking Shack episode was still very fresh in his nightmares) and the promises so enticing (and so very false) of one Dark Lord. He still remembered asking Horace Slughorn a letter of recommendation for his Potions Mastery apprenticeship, but having no relations (except for Lucius) nor the means to be sufficiently "attractive" to the teacher (who had accepted him in his club thanks to Lucius), The round man "encouraged" him to try his luck with his "own talent." Albus had not even seen fit to intercede on his behalf then, citing the fact that he was not himself a Potions Master and therefore having no influence in this area. Lies. Others had the precious letter without even having applied. They were wealthy, influential or ... non-Slytherin.

He still blamed the Headmaster sometimes as his future appeared very dark then. What prospects were opened to him? He could work as a brewer or even an potions expert, but he would probably never get the opportunity to run a Mastery again in this case. He wanted to create, learn more about magic and its various applications in the field of potions, but without support, he could rely on its own merit and even then, he could not afford to pay for the apprenticeship. Furthermore, he had to face Lily's cut of their ties at the end of that year. So, when he had returned to Spinner's End to see his mother, the only person who could restored some hope for him, he had learned from his father, quite drunk as usual that she had died three weeks ago, he had broken. His joke of a father hadn't contacted him because he did not see the worthiness of it nor the need to use these "tricks" of his "kind" that were the owls. Following his instinct, he had gone to Lily. She refused to see him, to even listen to him as she was still angry against him. He had been cooled by the rejection when he needed her the most. He had fled with the Knight Bus in Diagon Alley, upset. Having nowhere to go, no money, he had sent an owl to Lucius, who received him at the Manor where Abraxas was already dying in a separate wing. It was decided to host him this summer, and then, until the end of his schooling.

Thinking about it, he would admit that Lucius had addressed him without special precautions. He knew what he was joining (or so he thought), he could not deny it but the one thing that he was seeing at the time was the opportunity to be sponsored from his sixth year with a distance learning which would give hima direct input from his Potions Master Mentor when he graduated. The opportunity to realize his dream of becoming someone was then so close. He would become Severus Snape, Potions Master and made them all forget about the skinny and ugly boy. The scapegoat of the Marauders. He wanted to be respected, to be worthy enough. He wanted it so much. He was left blinded. He had signed a standard sponsorship contract, or so he thought. He just had to successfully complete his apprenticeship, get his Mastery and fulfill a commitment to work for his sponsor for at least five years with immediate effect. Nothing too much. The Dark Lord at the time was a fascinating and charismatic being. It was a privilege to be invited to his meetings and to listen this great speaker talking about the changes so much needed in their society, about his willingness to force change after centuries of inertia while getting back to power those who deserved it.

The Dark Mark was just some proof of his commitment to participate in the future change in the wizarding world under the Dark Lord tutelage. And it was also some form of justice against those who saw nothing in him, who had denigrated and ridiculed the scrawny boy throughout his school years. He was a half-blood, but the Dark Lord himself had recognized his qualities. He considered that at its true value and this had flattered him to see such interest when doing back so little. Nothing that really involved him in the war. His roommates themselves had begun to consider him worthy. He was not alone anymore, he had friends who spoke to him, asked his opinion. It allowed him to avoid to think about Lily's rejection and his mother's death. He loved Lily then but he was angry at her too. His involvement as a Death Eater was insidious and had served as an outlet for his confused feelings at Hogwarts. The Dark Lord only required to be informed of his progress then and he was proud to present his rapid learning.

He even shared the one spells and curses he invented.

He was young and really stupid.

The Master asked nothing else of him, letting him finish his schooling at Hogwarts and encouraging him to do his best to quickly become one of the few titleholder of the so rare and prized title of Potions Master. After graduating, and despite his father's death (who died stupidly as he lived, bumping his head when falling from his chair because he was too much intoxicated ... he enjoyed burying him in the communal grave), he decided to not return to Spinner's End even though he kept the house. The Lord found him a room inside Diagon Alley, not far from his Potions Mentor. Although the room was tiny and helpless, it was equipped with its own private laboratory provided by the Dark Lord and which ingredients were home delivered for him every week. It was really more than what Severus had ever dared hope. Not to mention that his training was fully funded and a monthly allowance covered all of his other costs.

Severus had really had a period where he really had blindy believed in the Cause. He participated in every meetings, impressed by His charisma and eloquence. Severus was caught. He then had also wanted to change things, facing himself injustice and prejudices in a society that wasted the talents and belittled some of his own people. The Dark Lord said that he just wanted purebloods to get the recognition due to them as they were the founders of their society. He claimed to consider werewolves and other magical being as people deserving proper rights. The Dark Lord told then that the wizarding world needed to tell the truth about dark magic wanting to restore its former glory. It was such a fascinating project and, of course, the accusations made against the motion were related to the Ministry disinformation's campaign and the press usual exaggerations. As for the muggles, they were a danger to them, to their security, there was no way to deny it, really. It was their way of life that was in peril, it was necessary to protect it against the inaction of the authorities. It all seemed to make sense.

He really was naive.

At the beginning of his apprenticeship, when he was still a Hogwarts' student, he only had to learn the properties of all the different ingredients, common or rare, and their interactions, common and rare uses and adverse effects on the human boby. A hard work, tedious and often boring, but necessary before considering the second step right out of school. From that very moment, he was asked to "just practice" and to consider the possibility of improving some existing potions, including healing potions which was a fortunate occurence as it was part of his St Mungo's medical training at St. Mungo's, offering him the opportunity to early validated some of his learning this way. Not to mention that everything (ingredients and cauldrons alike) was provided free of charge regardless of the cost of what he needed. It was his way to show his gratitude. There weren't any downside that he could see. Then, it was climbing. Fast, so fast. From healing and defensive potions to offensive. But how could he say no? The smooth-talking speech had given way to Crucios and other dark spells which led him to feel more dead than alive. That was motivation enough to accept.

The illusion had ceased. He was no longer the student who was courted, he was a slave who had willingly be chained.

He remembered having frantically scoured the newspapers in search for the results of his "creations". His Appenticeship Master hadn't been of a great support, revealing being himself under pressure from the Lord that threatened his family and who had also forced him to accept this apprentice. Thus, he, at best, pitied him or at worse, felt contempt toward his unwanted apprentice. Even after the Dark Lord's, his Master hadn't even see fit to bring him support during his test before the League, one year later. He had been paid but did not intend to be associated with a Death Eater. Anyway, he didn't matter to Severus. He barely had any contact with his mentor in reality. His apprenticeship was widely held in autonomy, his master giving him just his personal notes and guidelines. No, what had actually pained him was the exact moment where he realised the extent of his own stupidity while facing the Dark Mark for what it really was. His slavery.

When he as asked to take part to raids.

He thanked every god for his occlumency's skills that first night. He still remembered the faces of his victims fallen under his wand. They still haunted his nightmares. Later, back in his little room that he couldn't bear anymore (he refused to stay with Lucius despite his repeated proposals as he felt probably guilty seeing him falling into depression), he refused to let himslef go before shuting the door. As soon as it was closed, he had vomited his guts, shaking uncontrollably. He had crawled into bed before collapsing, physically and mentally exhausted . He then had wanted to stay hidden in his bed the next day and all life if possible, except that it wasn't. He had to get up from the first light of dawn. He joined his laboratory then, working for the Lord's new potions. He had found a strange comfort mixed with guilt when getting lost in his work, the concentration required for brewing and doing his research forcing him to put aside awful memories of last night.

However, when being alone once again, he had again collapsed. There was no escape. It was something that he couldn't share with anyone, not even Lucius as Narcissa was once more pregnant and his blond friend was just too wary about her health after her fifth miscarriage to burden him furthermore. He wanted his mother to be there and took him in her arms saying that everything would be alright again. But she was dead. He was alone. He had tried not to think about Lily. He did not want to think about her. But Lily always knew what to say, what to do when he was not well. He found even more cruel than ever his absence. He tried to apologize after the incident at the end of their fifth year at least a hundred times but she just refused to listen.

She said she could not stand his interest in dark magic anymore, that he was following a dangerous path, and that she thought it was better to take a break from their relationship. She never spoke to him again then and carefully avoided him at Hogwarts, even after the Shrieking Shack "prank" in their sixth year. He thought it was temporary as she had suggested and he wanted to show her that he respected her choice. He had his own friends then and his own projects and ambitions to prove that he was worthy enough. Future was not so dark and he was sure she would not let down their friendship. She only needed some time to herself before coming back to him. he was sure she would understand he was doing it for her, to promise her a better future with a new wizarding world he would have participated to create. And then, then she started dating Potter in their last year and he hadn't understood. Couldn't understand. After, the only contact he had with her was an owl with a package in which she gave back each gift he had ever offer to her. That was the summer following the end of their schooling. Back then, he really felt bitter and carried away by resentment. Mudblood. Instead of regretting the word he had decided that it was well deserved.

Fool. She was right.

He was just heartbroken and prefered deal with anger rather than pain.

After his first raid this night, alone in his small room and surrounded by the acrid smell of his own stench, he felt it really was over. He had fully realized this. No turning back. Nowhere to turn to. He was alone. He had spoiled everything. And he was so confused. What could he do? He had no means of escaping the Dark Lord. The ugly and terrible brand on his arm fully take on significance. He was enslaved by his own choice. He was afraid to go to Dumbledore. He was lost. A few raids later, he had made his choice. He had nothing to lose and laughed at what his life had become. How his dreams of a greater path were now definitively closed. Hogwarts felt like a long time aggo. Far away. Some times later, he was ready to assume his actions, going to Azkaban to receive the Dementor's Kiss instead of completing the assignment of that night. He found himself before a small house in an ordinary Muggle neighborhood on the outskirts of London. It was dark. He had to bring the heads of the father, a muggleborn wizard and his wife before dawn.

To ensure that the work would be done, the Lord had asked Avery to accompany him so that he could "play" with the little girl of the couple. He could not retreat nor escape. He was fast and made it as painless as possible. The girl had curled in a corner of the sitting room. He'd watched his fellow Death Eater walking toward her with a sadistic smile. He didn't dare to even imagine the perverse ideas passing through the man's head. Rape? Dismemberment? The skinning raw? Breaking her bones one by one? The "imaginative" way of Avery was deemed very creative among the Deatheaters. the little girl was no more than four, perhaps five years old. She clutched a stuffed pink bear against her chest, a thumb in the mouth and her eyes full of tears. She had red hair. As Lily had. So small, so frail. Defenseless.

What happened then, he didn't remember very well. He threw a stupefix to Avery before carrying the unconscious child and had transplaning to the borders of Hogwarts. Arrested by the crossing of barriers, he shouted, begged, screamed until the Headmaster came to meet him, wand in hand. He had told him everything, had not sought to reduce his faults, he said he was ready for anything but needed to save the child whom he had just killed the parents. Thus, began his "career" as a spy. His way to redumption had said Albus, to lighten the burden placed upon his too young shoulders. Dumbledore had accompanied him in the house where he had left Avery and the corpses. He then threw a powerful memory charm in which he altered just the part about the child that Avery would remember having inadvertently let escape because of he overconfidence, a lie so light that the truth would be undetectable, even to Voldemort. Avery was punished severely and Severus "rewarded", meaning that he could leave without being subjected to the Cruciatus.

It was his second chance.

He worked hard to glean all the information he could get to make to Order or the Aurors involved before the raids, but there were some he still couldn't avoid without risking his cover. He took news about the child sometimes. He hadn't tried to see her again but made sure that the ones who take her in were good with her. He couldn't face the girl's eyes and the guilt. He saved other children, some adults sometimes as much as he could without arousing suspicions. Pretending to want having fun in private. He made them swallow a potion that simulated their death and created illusions and lures of dislocated and martyred bodies. Out of necessity. He had never been so exhausted but motivated to work in keeping his commitments between Dumbledore and Voldemort while continuing to work at St. Mungo's during daytime. The Headmaster had given him an opportunity to believe that it wasn't all for nothing, that he was doing something good, to really help him redeem his sins.

Of course, he had to endure the scornful and even disgusted looks of his former fellows during the session meetings of the Order of Phoenix. And their whispers they weren't so careful for him to not hear them: "It was obvious that he would turn bad," "Spy? You bet! I'm sure he brings back informations to You-Know-Who! "" And Dumbledore really trusts him? I'll keep a close watch anyway! "" For me, one a Death Eater, always a Death Eater. " He didn't answer them. After all, it was well deserved. He only asked as a favor to limit interviews with the Order to what was necessary and to report directly to Dumbledore who granted his request. To avoid suspicion first as it was easier that way to the Headmaster. In reality, Severus just couldn't meet Lily's eyes and her sentence without breaking and choose to willingly avoid her as much as possible. As he was in the good graces of the Lord, he welcomed with a triumphant stoicism the order to spy on Dumbledore after weeks of innuendo and suggestions not only to the Lord but also to his fellow Death Eaters .

The Lord considered this as a demonstration of his enthusiasm, reinforcing his decision to support the obscure but talented student of Hogwarts. He was elated to have his own future Potions Master, so devoted to his cause. Devoted to exhaustion. His days were spent to his apprenticeship at St Mungo, the evenings to brewing the potions required by the Dark Lord, nights with the Order's/Dark Lord's meetings. The few free time he had was spent to create antidotes to the potions he himself created. He almost never slept or ate. He had next to no social relationships. Compared to where he was today, he could say he had made tremendous progress. He was moved from ermit to antisocial, which was a big change, whatever people may say about him.

It was the exhaustion that prevented him from realizing what he was doing the night he heard Trelawney's prophecy. He should have asked the Headmaster if he could pass this information, modify it or even if he should share what he'd heard but then, he would never have imagined that the Lord would take this seriously. He had always considered divination as uninteresting and even unworthy of any consideration. In addition, the masquerading of running a job interview in a tavern instead of Hogwarts was symbolic of the consideration for that matter, if there was any to have. He had brought it as something anecdotal. Except that the Lord had taken this very seriously. This was what pushed Severus in the Inner Circle. But the price was too much for him to handle. He had put Lily in danger. Even if he had not immediately understood it. His allegiance as a Death Eater had ruined everything.

And then, the Potters, Lily, had gone into hiding with their toddler. Severus had decided to use the Lord's favor to ask her life to be spared, saying that he wanted to take revenge on her for having publicly humiliated at Hogwarts. But it did not work. It didn't work and Lily, his Lily, was killed. All of the things he tried, the persons he manipulated... It was for nothing. While there was resentment between him and Lily, he had never stopped loving her even when she deliberately ignored him when he tried once more to speak with her during the Order's meetings he asked to come even if it was to suffer Potter and his gang's harangues. When he finally understood that she didn't want anything to with anymore, at least for then, he merely decided to watch her and her quite growing belly bearing a child who would never be his. It hurt back then but no so much as when he went to Godric's Hollow this night. The last seed of hope seemed to just fly away while contemplating Lily's dead eyes before they removed her corps. While everyone was partying.

Disgusting.

He had just looked at her face turned toward the now empty baby crib. And he just thought that, even dead Lily refused to look at him. He thought that he had failed as he ever had. He stayed there for a long time, not daring to touch, to close her beautiful who will never again be full of her sparkle, of her laughter... of life. He couldn't cry when he was the one responsible, could he? In this small child room where Lily gave her life to save her baby. The life she valued more than her own, the full proof of her sacrifice plainly exposed in the complicated patterns drawn with her blood. Albus finally came to pick him up at dawn, explaining that Potter's and Lily's bravery will save time for the wizarlding world, to prepare his return and that he, Severus was meant to continue living. And resume his spy activity when the time would come. To honor Lily's memory. He agreed. What else could he have done? He was hired as a professor and Head of Slytherin House last September, only two months ago then. The Headmaster had promised to testimony his spy's commitment for him before the Wizengamot. But he did not care. It did not two months in Azkaban only served to make him understand he would never fully pay for her death. The return to civilian life, the humdrum of classes and duties had been cruel to bear. The First Christmas, too. Furthermore, he had to face the looks and whispers from his colleagues or students, and outside too.

But as she was gone, nothing truly mattered.

There had been such a void. Even though Lily had avoided him at the Order, even if she had never forgiven him, even though he had never been able to tell her he loved her... nothing had prepared him for this pain, aching and haunting, which tightened so much his chest that he felt like suffocating with every breath. He replayed over and over what he had seen of the shreds which had hosted the last moments of his beloved. Her corpse laying there, pale skin and dull eyes. The house half collapsed apart from the child's room curiously intact among the ruins where he had climbed to join her. He had immediately understood the reason when seeing the runes drawn on the floor under the half burnt carpet. Lily had always been a gifted student in Charms but she had also taken the virus to combine his favorite area with other magic fields to achieve the objective she had set to herself.

The goal, itself, was clear: the protection of her child at any cost. Even of her blood and life. It was probably selfish and particularly unhealthy but he immediately hated the child for the sacrifice that his mother had done for him. If he had not been there, there would be no prophecy. If he had not existed, Lily might have been spared. And maybe she would eventually have forgiven him. Maybe she would eventually have become his friend at least. Over time, even if they would probably never have been as close as theyere before, they would have established new bonds. He had clung to this naive hope for so long that to see that this would never happen had destroyed him. Lily was gone. Her body contained no life anymore. But the brat survived.

And the wizarding world had celebrated the great triumph of a toddler still in diapers without paying any tribute to Lily. Albus had encouraged this version and Severus had not contradicted because this way would have lead to admit that the Grand Miracle taken place with a prohibited magical ritual. This would have only sullied the Lily's memory and then as the Dark Lord was mean to return... No body, no death. And as the undoer of the Dark Lord, it was easy to bet that, when returned, he would personnally attempt to kill the prat. It was only justice. But then ... it would be like Lily had died for nothing. After all, she had given her life to save her only son. He was torn between the desire to make the brat pay and the desire to respect Lily's choice. He made a compromise then: he would said nothing about Lily's sacrifice - leave the Wizards and witches stupid enough to believe this fable and make of a baby their hero - and in return, he would take over Lily to protect her child. Protect the boy was like prolonging Lily's life. Retaining the only trace that remained on earth as her passage. But he would never forget and, despite his promise, he would never forgive the one who had taken Lily from him.

Potter's son had caused her death and he would take any needed actions to remind him about it.

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><p>[1] I know that the difference is more important than that since, by implication, they should be six years apart but we will say that I make this little twist for the sake of the history.<p>

[2] 1km = 0.6241 mile so around 1km24.

[3] Here, we will call "Brewers" those who have obtained an Optimal their NEWTS and "Potion Experts" those who have obtained approval from the Ministry in the form of a license (two years), as an alternative to the Mastery allowing the harvestingof ingredients and brewing of potions called "sensitive" while needing a thorough knowledge of spells, rare ingredients and regulated potions.

[4] Sorry, I could not help but imagine my ideal library.

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><p>Well, I'm sorry for postponing Severus and Harry's meeting but, as you have probably noticed, this chapter was pretty long...<p>

Note : I hope to get a beta some time soon so please indulge me once more for any grammatical and spelling mistakes as for odd sentences structures.

Next chapter? Well, I will try in two weeks time...

Some rewiews will be appreciated and I remind the anonymous rewiewers that they can find their answer on my profile page.

**See you!**


	4. When trouble shall begin

Hello!

**I know, I'm late.** What happened? Life happened. And my birthday, and some illness and a little bad mood so to say but as I said before (or maybe I didn't?), this fiction will go to completion, no worry about that.

Well, I expected to have a beta for this new chapter but after the yes answer, no news anymore and I didn't dare ask others after that so... if you are really **serious** or know someone serious, lead the way. What I want is someone no afraid by checking grammar and mispelling, correcting sentences structures and giving me a honest feed back about the story, even giving me ideas to improve it, why not? But don't say yes if you aren't sure, please. It's discouraging to me.

And don't forget that, as much as this story is a Severitus one, it will contain slash later, so think about it before.

Well, I know and you know as well that I'm not J.K. Rowling so, apart from this story, nothing is mine.

**Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

**When trouble shall begin**

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><p>After a morning devoted to the preparation of his laboratory work, some minor experiments and tests on its employees' work. A good meal later, he worked on the potions restocking for Hogwarts' infirmary before deciding to leave. He dressed in Muggle fashion - one of the advantages to having been raised as a muggle was how not to appear ridiculous unlike many wizards when trying to blend in - and apparated in a uncrowded dead end alley (Circus Mews) of London. He walked at a brisk pace towards Marylebone Road, past St Marylebone Parish Church, before turning into the desired street, walking at a quick pace in his black suit, armed with his briefcase, unnoticed amid the passersby. Once the book valuable recovered and carefully protected in its case, he chose to walk a bit and join the Leaky Cauldron by hiking.<p>

He needed a few ingredients and for once, he did not want to order by owl. He liked to choose his own plants, feathers and other items to ensure their quality, or even indulge in a few additional purchases, within the scope of a pulse or by the unexpected delivery of rare and precious ingredients. He went on Thayer Street and James Street (Merlin he hated this street), until Oxford Street and then joined the London Underground station at Bond Street. He paid for his ticket, blessing all the Gods that the train was almost empty, shielding him from the nuisance of the human crowd swarming of urban London. He stopped to get off to Westminster along the banks of the Thames at Millbank and more specifically in the Victoria Tower Gardens and its famous Cleopatra's Obelisk.

The weather was cloudy and rainy which explained that there was hardly anyone in this end of the day, allowing him to enjoy the view and the landscape before returning to shut himself up in his laboratory. It was a distraction that he rarely indulged so he wanted to enjoy it, weather or not. His attention was suddenly attracted by a curious spectacle. Later, he would, for a long time, oscillate between welcome for his presence here and blame himself for not having chosen to go through the Leaky Cauldron without stopping as he had originally intended before being tempted by this little walk. The weather turned stormy and few people were out so the Potions Master was surprised to see a boy of six maybe seven years old, with somewhat ragged clothes (kids are really careless nowadays he thought) and especially alone, while evening fell, leaning over the railing of stone by the river. He paused in his walk without exactly knowing why, intrigued. He always listened to his instincts and there, said instinct told him to pay attention to this vision. He saw the child laid his glasses, obviously stuck back several times with tape, flat on the bench beside him.

Strange.

He saw the child come forward and take a careful look around. From where he was, he couldn't see Severus. Having satisfied himself that no one was looking, the child carefully stepped over the guardrail and, after just a moment, without the teacher to respond, he simply jumped into the water. Stunned for a few seconds, the Master of Potions do not think about it more and, dropping his precious bag, ran to where the child had jumped, cursing the way of children boundless stupidity. How could he have even think to throw himself in these cold water? Was it a silly challenge, a game? It was beyond his understanding. He plunged into the frigid waters of the Thames and quickly cast wordlessly a bubblehead charm with his wand. The current was strong and he used an accio unformulated to bring the body of the child to him. As soon as he felt more than saw the lifeless body of the boy, he climbed rapidly to the surface with an Ascensio spell. He managed to find bearing points on the board to be able to climb, always pulling the child by his clothes while trying not to lose his wand, a highly challenging task. No one had stopped to help and Severus growled against the stupidity and insensitivity of muggles who preferred to blind themselves rather than get involved. Because, that way, it was he who had to do it.

And Merlin knew how much he hated being wet.

He stretched the boy on the cold pavement and used his knowledge in Healing to discreetly cast Aqua Vitalis and Halitus Sputare to allow the swallowed water to evacuate and to resume breathing. Finally, it was a good thing that passersby did not stop because Severus would have had some difficulties to explain his display of magic before mugles to the Ministry obliviators, although a movement of the stick over a body was not very spectacular or revealing. As they did not approach, he would be untroubled. Muggles saw only what they wanted to see anyway. He could feel a weak pulse but it took five endless seconds for the spell to take effect making him see the kid pick up a brief moment to spit water and blow air.

Before falling unconscious again.

Perfect. Really perfect, Severus thought, irritated. Fortunately he had the sense to cast a notice-me-not spell on his briefcase as he left the library. If he hadn't, he could have taken the risk of being robbed and would have really lost his day! He cursed the brat for having forced him to leap into the water. Merlin, he hated being wet! The Thames was not really a fashionable destination in his agenda. He quietly regained his briefcase and its valuable contents with a properly fitted accio before wondering what he should do with the kid. There was no way that he would be bound to take charge of the brat, wasn't there? He had made his part, that was all, end of the story. Onlookers began to arrive (now that he had to fend for himself!) And the Muggle police and emergency services would soon do their work. He had to escape immediately or he would be in it for the rest of the day to explain the story as evidence for muggle records. He began to rise before his eyes froze on the pale figure of the kid.

On a very specific part of his face, in fact.

A scar. A lightning bolt scar. On the forehead. Impossible to be wrong and yet he really wanted to be for once. His brain was thinking at full speed: he had a Harry Potter, Wizarding World Saviour, the idol side of the Light, Exterminator of Dark Lords ... etc, alone, and – obviously – suffering from the same stupidity as his late sire James Potter, unconscious before him. What to do? The solution escape at full speed greatly tempted him but the oath to Lily's was in the way. Drop the kid at Hogwarts infirmary and let Albus take care of the mess was certainly the right strategy, with one or two amnesia spells for good length to satisfy the Ministry. Except that the Headmaster was also not present at the moment for Merlin only knew how long, in conference with the Wizengamot. And Poppy was in St. Mungo's for the summer. So there was just him. Some people are born under an unlucky star. Obviously, he was one of those. In case there would still be a doubt of course.

Then he looked at the child.

Harry Potter was eight, almost nine for what he knew, but he suddenly seems smaller and ... vulnerable. Thought highly despicable, by the way. But hey, it was probably an illusion. After all, the dad had a knack in succeeding to appear angelic for clearing himself of all charges even when all evidence pointed toward him. Probably something genetic but him, oh him, he knew what to expect. And he would let the brat softened him except when there will be snow in Hell. He saw the muggle police arrived and heard himself answer the police with aplomb that he was a doctor that actually had plunged to catch the child accidentally fallen into the river while playing. His years as a spy had the advantage that he could deal calmly with any situation. And lie convincingly. The police gave him two blankets to allow them to warm a bit. He proceeded to surround one around the kid who was beginning to seriously to have chattering teeth. The policemen proposed to take them to the nearest hospital. This allowed the dispersing of the crowd and providing an opportunity to Potions Master to disappear with the kid no one the wiser. One of the two policemen brought him the glasses left by the kid a little higher before letting him carry the boy in his arms (Merlin! He was really light as a feather, he noticed). When they were about to leave, he threw a confusion spell and, well protected behind the tinted windows, he apparated directly with the boy in his living room.

He put the things he held in one hand as the other kept the boy against him. He cast a spell to dry and warm their clothes before dropping the boy on the couch, covering him with a thick quilt. Apart from a few groans, the boy showed no signs of awakening. He cast a spell to lock all entrances of the house before adding, as an afterthought, a silent alert, in case the kid woke up while he was to shower and change. Then he allowed himself to go to the bathroom to shower and choose clean clothes. Coming back to the living room, he decided to make the best of a bad deal and resigned himself to wait until the kid wakes up for his day, which had begun so well before being corrupted by the little urchin, to be back to normal once he would have deposited said urchin with his relatives.

After some minutes, he finally decided that there was no reason for the presence of the Prat-who-had-survived-to-spoil- and-rot-the-life-of-him to prevent him from following his schedule. He carried the kid always lost in the dream landscape to his office where he could place the boy on the sofa while he would try to catch up what the Thames' interlude had produced. He undertook to continue to answer his mail, for directions to the factory and the site manager for its expansion and meet the personal notes of his research before finally being able to devote himself to his new purchase. He took pen, ink and parchment, and plunged into the reading of fascinating spells and regenerative potions. He had almost forgotten about the child when a movement caught his eye. A cough sound to be more explicit. Swearing in the name of Merlin that there was definitely a success for Potter to spoil what should have been announced as a perfect day. The character of being a Pain-in-the-ass-of-everything-Snape-related was clearly genetically transmitted. He resigned himself to get up to go to inquire about the health of his unwanted guest.

A quick and targeted scan showed him that the kid had a high fever, that his lungs had begun to congest and that there was next to zero chance for those to go away with just a little sleep. So he would not only have to administer appropriate therapy but also monitor and wait for it to take effect. That meant he would have the kid on his hands at least until the next morning because of the induced drowsiness effect of the potions. Wonderful. He threw a lot of warming spell on the cover and made the potions be absorbed directly into the stomach of the boy, wondering how he would handle his case. He would work a little but he would go to bed at some point. Putting the kid in a guest room was not really a good idea. He did not like the idea of letting a Potter unattended in the house but take him with him ... no way.

He decided to push away the problem for when he would have to. He intended for the time to read his book and work on it. He would dwell with the Potter issue later. He would improvise. An elf brought him a cold soup and he ate it distractedly, again plunged into his calculations and note sheets, disturbed only occasionally by the sound of some coughing. Even asleep, he thought, exasperated, the brat was still looking for attention, preventing him from completing his research quietly. After two hours, he abdicated and decided to go to bed. He resigned himself to take the boy with him. Better safe than sorry. He carried the boy into his bedroom and transfigured one of his socks into a couch where he deposited his wrapped burden. A lot of monitoring charms later, he finally allowed himself to go to sleep. In case of the boy wuld awakened during the night, he would automatically be alerted. Not that it really pleased him but he had no other choice, unfortunately.

**.oO°Oo.**

When he awoke, he noticed that the kid was still sleeping. He cast a diagnostic charm who told him that the fever had not subsided, prolonged torpor. He grumbled. He was to feed the boy before giving him a new dose of potion. He called again an elf to bring him a nutrition potion that he again passed directly into the boy's body. While assimilation was done, he sought new vials of anti-fever and infant decongestant and a little conditioner to perk up the brat quickly. Once his task completed, he ordered an elf to warn him in case of revival and went to dress and get his breakfast, his paper "A World of Potions" on hand. He reflected on his day's program. From what he had started reading on Paracelsus' text, he had been able to already identify at least two premises immediately exploitable but he would need the advices of his consultants first. He decided to return to his office to write to them. He asked the elf in charge of the monitoring to bring the boy into his office, making him laying down on the sofa before going back to work. He worked one hour before hearing an almost inaudible moan.

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><p>Harry had always been quick to improvisation. But even to him, some time to adjust was needed. When he awoke, he was disoriented and confused. He did not have his glasses and his environment seemed absolutely strange and unfamiliar. He had not moved at first, examining the scene through his half closed eyes, continuing to regulate his breathing to make it appear that he was still asleep. He decided to proceed with logic. He remembered taking the bus to London with his aunt's money. He had a good day even though he was a little frustrated. Obviously, one do not let an unaccompanied child in museums or other interesting places, he had to turn back several times, even having enough to pay. But he took the subway for the first time and it was really an interesting experience even if did not like being locked underground. Nevertheless, he ended off at Queensway and entered Hyde Park. He had been amazed by the aisles to stroll, the small lake ... and all that green!<p>

Apart from the trips between the house of his relatives, his school, the library and the grocery store where his aunt sent him sometimes, Harry hardly had the opportunity to travel or to visit many places. Of course, the school had organized a number of trips but he had never been allowed to participate because of his "frail health", the excuse served by his aunt to justify his absences, his exemption from sport activities or his non-registration to the different clubs after school. The only experience with which he could compare the extent of colors that lay before him was the neighborhood gardens and especially the small garden of his relative. This had nothing to do with the display he could see now. Wild flowers, flower beds and lawn too high and trees out of sight. He had the impression of being outside the city, traveling in a foreign landscape and it was wonderful. He had used some of his money to buy a sandwich from a street vendor. He had always wanted to do that! It was the best meal he had ever done. Also the most complete, he couldn't even eat it all! He had sat on a bench until a small task with red fur had crept up to him before crashing at his feet, not shy at all.

A squirrel which enviously eyed on his sandwich. He was happy to have something to share for once. And the pain in his ribs, his arms or his back had seemed less difficult to bear even if he should continue to be careful and walk slowly to avoid suffering and to reopen the wounds. He had already had to run to escape the prying questions of the employee at Buckingham Palace who wanted to take him and call his guardians and he was hurt. Since there, he was more cautious. Finally, he decided there was too much crowd outside the palace and it was better to avoid being noticed. Then he went in the gardens of Buckingham. It was just too tempting. He discovered he loved the peaceful surroundings and with the weather, he was almost the only one to have the advantage to enjoy the spectacle of this little corner of nature. Aunt Petunia would have hated, he had thought. The beds were not very clear, the grass needed to be mowed, dotted with wildflowers, and the aisles were littered with dead leaves. To him, that was a pleasant sight. The sanitized side of the Dursleys' garden had always irritated him, and not just because it was he who was forced to take charge of the space but because there was something unhealthy in wanting to always make his garden looks like a plastic postcard. Put nature in a cage. He felt more comfortable in a setting that moved, breathed with the wind and does not seem to want or be disciplined. Where the man was only a guest to pass. Just the freedom to be yourself without anyone trying to get you into a too narrow mold where you could just suffocated.

After he had left St James Park, going past the Churchill Museum (where he could not enter), he had proceeded along the Thames in Victoria Tower Gardens. He felt calm, peaceful. The weather had cooled off yet and he shivered in his clothes too wide and too thin to protect it from wind, but he was grateful not to have faced the rain. He felt a little sore in his throat but it also did not matter now. Not anymore. He stopped before the low wall overlooking the river. A quick glance around confirmed to him that there was nobody to see. He had climbed over the parapet for a safeguard with all the precaution authorized by his aching body. He had decided not to think. The decision was made anyway. He just wanted to remember this feeling of well-being that accompanied him all day. Freedom. The ice water had received and sucked him without resistance, he had the reflex to look for air and of course his body had naturally panicked at not finding it. He knew what water could do, his Aunt had made him learn well. But his mind was reliving the moments spent in the park and the rest did not count. It was over.

Then, everything turned black.

Now what? Think Harry. Clearly, he was not dead. And he was not in a hospital or in the children welfare services too unless those instances were fitted with Victorian decor, which was rather unlikely. So he was with a particular, probably the person who had saved him from drowning. Which was quite suspicious indeed as an adult of sound mind, even benevolent, does not support a complete stranger, especially a child, without reference to the relevant authorities? That was not good. The eyes still half closed, he tried to discern the landscape through the window. He distinguished the top of a tree so he was on the upper floor of any building. The remaining question was: what next? He thought quickly: he must review the place to find a possible way out without being noticed, or at worst, face the master of the house and know what it meant to him. After, he would improvise. He felt that the person was close because of the noise of paper and a sort of screeching above. Too close to slip away. Tactic # 2 then. He fidgeted on the couch and let out a slight moan voluntarily to let him know that he was awake.

* * *

><p>The boy-who-lived-to-torment-him was awake. Severus rose from his desk and sat down in the chair opposite to the sofa. Large emerald green eyes opened and he forced himself not to shudder before this - living - testimony of Lily's legacy. He darted a glance without complacency on the kid whose face was made up quickly and impassively before returning his attention. It was probably a natural gift as Potter Senior had always known how to make him have the jimjams. It seems that the same was true for the son:<p>

"We'll keep it simple, Mr. Potter, in order to save us both valuable time. I do not care about what you did alone, unguarded, in London, although I don't doubt this is a brand of your troublemaker temperament, so just give me your address so I can take you back immediately to your relatives and resume the regular course of my life, which means rid of your presence."

The boy watched him a moment before declaring slowly:

"Who are you? How do you know my name? Why should I entrust my address to a stranger?"

Angered by the unbounded arrogance of the son-of-his-father, he replied:

"Respectively: you don't have to know, ditto and you do not want to force me to oblige you, I assure you."

The kid seemed to reflect a moment before appearing confused, watching the sun of late morning:

"Did I slept long?"

The patience of Severus finished dissipating:

"Mr. Potter, I do not know if this is due to the drowning of the few neurons you have bestowed to your sire or if your abilities are naturally equivalent to a flobberworm but in case you missed it or not yet understood, you are in trouble young man and I did not intend to leave a brat the size of a Bowtruckle tell me what to do in my own home."

He paused before fixing his interlocutor in the eyes (actually, a point just above) and complete:

"Give me your address so I drive you home, he threatened with a sour voice. Now."

The tone seemed to curb the insolent who let go:

"4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."

As Severus stood up, he added:

"But there will be no one."

Reseating himself, the Potions Master contains himself, and coldly asked:

"Why?"

"Because my uncle, my aunt and my cousin Dudley are on vacation", confidently asserted the boy, his face still impassive (arrogant, like his father, Severus thought).

"And they would have left without you? Go tell your nonsense to others, Mr Potter", the teacher laughed.

"I am not making fun of you, sir", the child replied seriously maintaining eye contact. The kid was really the spitting image of his sire, Severus thought with disdain.

The same disrespect for his elders and to the rules. But he would not let it go. Not him.

And the boy told him a fable that he had to originally pass the holidays with one of his friends and his family but that there had been a close call just before the departure announcing the death of a parent, thereby canceling the original project to attend the funeral. The family of his friend living just one block to his relatives, they had asked Harry to join his aunt's house. But as he returned, he found the house locked. Deducting his relative had temporarily left and enjoying spending the allowance they gave him, he decided to go on his own to London before returning the evening before his family went itself on a vacation in the next early morning. From what Severus retained this meant that Potter's family was not aware of his absence and therefore had no reason to worry and he would have to wrestle on. Obviously. Just in case, with a flickering hope which sank deeper and deeper into the throes of disenchantment, he asked to the kid where the Dursleys spent their holidays but other than "they do a tour in Southern Italy" and a shrug of shoulders, he obtained no details. He still decided to go check the story of the boy.

This woulnd't the first time that a Potter would look quite convincing while lying ...

He ordered to the Snot-who-lived-to-annoy-him not to move and after mature reflection, to be sure that no wandering would take place during his absence; he used the same spell as Poppy in the infirmary to stick the brat to the sofa. He apparated before the number listed under a spell of disillusionment and had, to his chagrin, recognize that Potter had not lied. No car. Doors, windows and shutters closed. Should he have doubted it one day, he was cursed. Resigned, he asked a neighbor to know the returning date of the family and felt the urge to decapitate the wretch who told him that his ordeal in Potter-sitting would last two weeks. He refrained, however, merely terrorizing the man to the bone. He asked all the same, in desperation, if the poor man knew where the family of urchin-who-was-glued-to his-sofa had gone but he knew nothing and looked at him with clear envy that he would go away at the earliest. He had to before attracting too much attention. He gritted his teeth and walked away in a dark alley to apparate home.

What was he to do with the little trouble on his feet now?

* * *

><p>The man hated him. That was pretty obvious. And he knew him. More importantly, he had every intention to return him as soon as possible at the Dursleys'. Save time. He needed time. He began by asking questions altogether legitimate a priori but which seemed to frustrated more his interlocutor. He followed this with a simpler question although the answer was obvious. He had slept a long time because he felt fully rested, which was not common and, according to the position of the sun, noon was near. The answer, though sarcastic and brittle, enabled him to learn several things: The man didn't hate him; it was much deeper than that. And probably related to his father whom he seemed to have known enough to recognize him. He looked like his father. This pleased him somewhere, he could only imagined in whom of both of his parents he looked like when watching himself in the mirror. Now, he couldn't look at himself anymore.<p>

The man must have deeply hated his father and so he, by extension. Judging by the tone, his father had to do something serious for any resentment persisting beyond his death. He knew his Uncle were to join Aunt Marge this morning and that the Dursleys' were going to stay at least two weeks. Time enough to escape. And ... finish his project. Nothing had changed in that way. He would not return there. He needed just one reason as to his host to not suspect anything. It was nobody's business. He could not bear the truth to be known, to know how weak he was letting himself being abused. So he invented this story. The man may have known his parents but not him, giving him an advantage. The man did not believe him at first and seemed skeptical before deciding to go see for himself. Harry would have almost smiled. He could find a way to leave during that time. Except that the man let a strange stick out of his clothes before whispering something to his direction. Did he intend to hit him with it?

By reflex, he tried to rise himself but could not move from the sofa. The man seemed satisfied and disappeared suddenly. It took exactly ten seconds sharp before Harry could regain his composure. The man had made magic. Like him, but better. And more efficient. He was like him. That's probably why he had not driven him elsewhere. He may have noticed that he was unusual too? Uncle Vernon often spoke of his "dirty breed," but he never really considered that there could be others like him. Apparently, there was at least the man in black and his parents. He said that ultimately he might stay a while. Just to learn more. Never mind that the man does not like him, he was used to that but he might take him elsewhere, with other people like them and ... He shook his head bitterly. Decidedly, he really thought it was past him to hope that way for no reason. He had to keep his goal in mind: do not return to the Dursleys. Ever. For now, he would await the return of the man and act accordingly. And ignore the pain of his ribs. The man must have moved him without caution.

But at least, he hadn't noticed, that was a good point.

**.oO°Oo.**

Severus was annoyed. No. It was beyond that. He had plans, studies and research to do. He had business to manage, potions for the infirmary and courses to prepare and he hated the inconvenience. Potter was the cause of these mishaps. And he would have to wrestle with the brat for two long weeks. Upon his return, he threw a hard look to the kid who was staring quietly, quite unmoved, demanding silence from his eyes in order to think. He could not spend his time constantly monitoring the urchin, he had other things to do but leaving him to the care of the elves was a bad idea. Although competent in their field, the house elves had an annoying tendency to obey without question therefore that the orders were of wizards or witches. Potter would be able to win them to cause mischief. Like his father. He grimaced eloquently. No, he couldn't let the boy to himself.

But what could he do?

He called to the force of logic: she had never let him drop. He could not take care of the kid so he must leave it to others, at least during the day. He could not let other people come at home or send him elsewhere because the boy-who-lived could not be seen in the Wizarding world. There was just the Muggle world left. The village of Stonehaven was the obvious solution and he knew, from having read it in the local newspaper that Mrs. Macfarlane, director of the Arduthie Primary School, organized summer sessions for children with learning difficulties. There was perhaps the way to get rid of the boy with competent persons. He could let Potter there between 9 a.m. and 3 p.m., and, as lunch was taken on the spot, he would be free to organize his time as he pleased without worrying about the kid. There was finally some light at the end of the tunnel. He would simply say that a friend had to leave urgently and had given him her child for two weeks but that, having himself obligations, he could not bear to keep the brat with him all the time.

It would be credible. The people knew him, though he rarely came to the village. Officially, to muggles, he lived in the old gatehouse of the castle that served as his summer residence. From what he had said during the few exchanges with his neighbors, he was a teacher in a private school and only returned for vacations, which was not far from the truth. As the cottage was equipped with all common facilities and that the illusion spell just allowed them and the occasional tourists to see anything but a little cottage. He had never been annoyed by their questions or visits, Merlin blesses the Muggle repelling charm. Anyway, here, people were discrete and rarely mingled with what does not concern them. He would phone tomorrow. No, better, he would go there with the kid, with a little luck, she could take him immediately. Reassured to have found a solution, he stopped his walk in circles and turned to the kid who was watching carefully him with his too big green eyes. Without realizing it, he blurted out:

"Lily's eyes..."

* * *

><p>He had not really taken the time to watch the man, pressed by the urgency of finding a plausible story and amazed by the magic of the man but now that he could see him walking back and forth, thinking about what to do with him probably, he devoted himself to his favorite activity. He had many clues already but he could probably do better. Clothes were often an important clue to the personality of one person, as Harry had often noticed. Posture and voice too. However, sometimes it happened that people did not correspond at all to their social suit so it was important to pay attention to the rest. The man was dressed in black. Personal choice or a sign of mourning. Probably both, Harry decided. Coat of high quality so wealthy situation, according to the decor. The posture of the man suggested several things: a deep sadness in the way he stood rigidly right but with shoulders hunched forward, as bent under the weight of a burden (regret?) And the bitter twist of the mouth suggested that this does not date from yesterday.<p>

He moved fluidly and gracefully yet he didn't seem the sporty type but had sharp reflexes, however, as his body betrayed him. His eyes ... At first glance, it looked like they were black but by paying more attention that was not really that. Rather very dark blue, as if they never saw the light. Just like his skin, ghastly pale and rather sallow. He did not seem sick though. He was young, maybe thirty years old to his opinion, but something made him older, as if life had prematurely aged him. Bad experiences in the past... Harry's father? The teeth were yellow and uneven, a dentist hater with no care to himself so. His hair looked greasy but it was strange to have hair so oily, just as the man looked clean on him otherwise. It reminded him ointments care that his aunt put in the evening before going to bed. It smelled very bad and he personally found it horribly disgusting but it seems that this was to make his aunt's blond hair more beautiful. He had never seen any difference but was careful not to voice his opinion. In this case, the man needed such care probably to protect his hair, his work certainly as if it was for recreation, a single cap would have sufficed. What kind of job could he do?

The hands were long, with spidery thin fingers with yellowed nails, used to work and to handle substances that permeate the skin, but they did not seem callous. A semi-manual work then but he couldn't see which one though. His voice. It was deep, rich and bass. It was the most decisive clue. A deep voice but dry, velvety but authoritarian and used to being obeyed without being raised. And above all there was strength in him, but hidden, concealed. Like his dangerousness. It was present but lurking. Yet this man was not bad, Harry felt. He was exasperated and he would have taken a good thrashing with his Uncle if he had dared to answer as he had to the man - if he had dared to answer at all, or even talk - but no, the man had done nothing except express his anger and his feelings towards him. He had clearly said what he expected of him, even forced him to agree but he hadn't hurt him. And apparently, since he returned, he wanted a way to take care of him while his relative would be absent.

Suddenly, the man stopped and turned to him, seeming loose himself a moment as he whispered:

"Lily's eyes..."

**.oO°Oo.**

'I've got my mother's eyes', he thought. His throat tightened. He had learned more about his parents in an hour with this stranger than in his eight years at the Dursleys. There, the rule was simple: "do not ask questions." All he was told was that they had died in a car accident like the good-for-nothing drunkards they were and that they deserved what happened to them. The only thing they regretted was that they could at least have the decency to take him with them instead of imposing his undesirable presence in their perfect and normal family. The dark man had known his mother then, but unlike his father, his death seemed to have greatly affected him. So his mother must have been appreciated – even liked – and that was why he did not like to look at him in his eyes, fixing a point just above. The difference was subtle but there. Masking his confusion, he turned his gaze to the window, leaving the man in his peripheral vision to monitor his movements. He had met and knew his parents. It made him nervous. He had so many questions but did not feel to ask.

The man then took a deep breath.

"Very well, Mr. Potter", Severus began slowly. "First, since we will be forced, because of your lack of common sense worthy of one Chizpurfle, to live together until your relatives' return, I suggest that we establish some rules to make the best of this situation." The 'suggestion' was not suggested at all, Harry thought while silently nodding his head.

"A full verbal response, Mr Potter", the Potions Master admonished, exasperated by the lack of courtesy of the eight years old parasite.

"Yes, Sir ... Sir?" Harry ventured to ask. He would not spend two weeks with a stranger, wouldn't he?

The man in black seemed to think about the question a moment before reluctantly declaring:

"I'm Professor Severus Snape. You will address me by "Sir" or "Professor Snape," is that clear?" Severus said firmly.

Someone had to make the boy learn a minimum, even if only to avoid him taking the path of his father. If it was still possible, of course.

"Yes, Professor Snape", the boy meekly replied.

"Well", Severus said with satisfaction. "Tomorrow, I will lead you to the village near here, called Stonehaven, where I expect you to register for summer courses."

He expected to hear the boy cries, screeches, howls as he dares deprived Little-Prince-Potter of his holidays by forcing him to return to school but it didn't happen, he met just a polite and attentive audience. He frowned but after all, he had certainly scared enough the kid to have some chance of being obeyed by him. Well, this situation would perhaps be tolerable, he thought before continuing.

"You'll be there from Monday to Friday, from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. and eat on the spot. I expect you to behave respectfully with your teachers, respond to their requests and that you work hard otherwise you will not like the consequences, I assure you."

He stopped for confirmation:

"Yes, Professor."

He went one:

"You will eat there but the house elves will prepare your meal, is that clear?"

"Yes, Professor."

"I'll take you at 8.30 and will pick you up at the exit every afternoon but do not expect to roam the house. You will go down in my laboratory with some reading to do if you do not have homework. Dinner will be served at 7 p.m. and the breakfast at 7 a.m. sharp. I require punctuality and there is no question of being picky. You will eat what is served and there will no exception. Once dinner is over, I expect you to go to your room and do not believe that I won't know if you make detours. You can only travel from your bedroom to the bathroom during nights until I pick you up for breakfast. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Another thing: it is useless to try to coax the house-elves, they only obey me and they have strict orders (once I'd talked to them that is, he thought) just as it is useless to try to leave the property without me, the wards do not leave anyone in or out without my consent ... that you will not have, if I had to clarify", he sarcastically said.

"No, sir."

"The two weekends we will unfortunately have to spend together will be devoted to studying but also to other quiet activities". He emphasized the 'quiet' word. "You can make suggestions but I suggest you ask my permission before doing anything".

"Yes, Professor."

"Do you have any questions?"

Severus seriously hoped not, he intended to eat, to fetch a book for the kid and take him down with him in the laboratory until dinner time before leading him to his bedroom. Program complete, end of this awful day. He saw the boy loose some of that annoying impassibility which he had shown so far. He was biting his lip and he had to remember to look away before this mimicry so familiar to Lily. He could not help but clicked his tongue against his palate and release:

"Well? Ask your question!"

"Are you a magician?"

Taken by surprise, he frowned and lifted his chin to encourage Potter to develop. The boy seemed to understand and stated:

"You made magic with your stick ... Is there a lot of people like us? Can it be learned? What is a house elf? Which subject do you teach?"

**.oO°Oo.**

He hadn't dared to ask about his parents because the subject seemed sensible. But magic, that interested him greatly. Maybe he could find an easier way to use his own to protect himself from the Dursleys. The idea deserved some digging. Or maybe he would find a way to reach people like him and find a way to survive, even work, it didn't bother him. But he had to know more. And his only source of information was Professor Snape. The program that the professor offered him seemed interesting although he felt a little apprehensive about the school. He would probably be bored as usual but this time there was no Dudley and he could be honest about his abilities and do his best. And maybe… maybe make friends!

He would be able to study all day and he would have the right to choose himself activities just by asking for permission. And the teacher did not talk about chores to perform. Harry thought to himself that he still would make his bed, tidy the room and clean after himself in the bathroom. Then, he would see what would be asked of him. He would even have a room all to himself and the dark man expected that he eats everything without question. It seemed frankly a bit too good to be true... but he would wait and see after these two weeks, he would find a way not to go back to the Dursleys, and meanwhile, it would probably be the best holidays he would ever have. Even if they were his first...

**.oO°Oo.**

A magician? Others like them? A stick? Misery ... No, let me know that this is not true. The Boy-Who-A-Lived, the Symbol of the Light of the wizarding world, the heir of one of the ten most important and ancient wizarding fortunes of Great Britain, with a Lord title ... etc., could not but be aware of his condition and history? Albus had said that the kid was sent to safety in the Muggle world, away from the bustle of their own world and defended by the blood protection left by Lily. But in Severus' head, that wouldn't stop the kid to be educated about his origins, and even trained to prepare the return of the Dark Lord. Moreover, as Lord Potter, however underage, he should normally be properly instructed in his rights and duties, intiated to the Etiquette for when the time would come to claim his sit on the Wizengamot. He himself had not be educated as such since his grandfather had not imagined him as an heir worthy of the Prince's name and it was only thanks to Lucius that he had learned the basics even if he never claimed his sit officially. It did not make sense. Albus was making sure of such details as the boy's magical guardian. Unless the kid was trying to confuse him but there was too much of impatient curiosity, even in the policed voice of the brat to doubt his sincerity. It would be two very long weeks and he would have to talk to Albus upon his return in early August.

There certainly was an explanation.

* * *

><p>The two weeks went by relatively quickly after all. He had been able to deposit the Potter brat the next morning at school but he had to suffer the rest of Sunday explaining the basics of the wizarding world to the boy ( a 5 minutes explanation with a little demonstration to support his word) before thrusting him a history book in the hands and taking him to his laboratory where he had been able to brew the first batch of potions for the hospital wing of Hogwarts in order to get free for his research, wedging the same in a chair to watch him by the corner of his eyes while working, a background of Mozart on the stage. The kid had not blinked throughout. It was weird to see this strange sort of detachment on the boy, but he imagined that the fact of being with an unknown person, far from his beloved family, discovering a entire new world and forced to comply to strict regulations would dampen a bit the mood of the little-spoiled-rotten-darling, and that his way of showing it was by sulking. Good, at least he had peace. He had almost forgotten his presence when he went back. Fortunately, the boy had followed him. A Potter unattended in a laboratory, it was like leaving a spider under the nose of a Puffskein. It could not end well. However, he did not relax its guard upon the spawn of James Potter.<p>

This would no doubt saved him a lot of headaches.

He had explained to the headmistress his issue about the boy and she had received the child with kindness. He insisted that she was vigilant about the brat's behavior, not hesitating to let him know if he were to cause trouble. After a few days, she had pointed out that the kid only seemed quite distracted and that she had difficulty in capturing his attention. Also, she had taught him that he did not seem to get along with the others children, asking her to remain in the school library during school breaks after an incident occured with them. Severus had snorted when hearing that. Mr. Potter must probably have thought that he was too good for common people. Even if he was not aware of his origins until now (probably his relatives did not want him to get more bigheaded that he already was), this did not mean that he wasn't as arrogant and spoiled as his father was. That way that he always answered politely, with the minimum of words, as if having to deign to speak to him was already a privilege in itself, was extremely irritating but somehow, the nightmare would soon cease. Potter's family was to return in two days.

Finally.

**.oO°Oo.**

It had been the two weeks the most interesting he ever had. After having learned about the magical world, he was awarded by several books given to him by the Professor Snape, and he had devoured them in no time. After reading the first of them, he had even been allowed to choose others in the magnificent library of the teacher, except for the banned books with witchcraft and warning protections because they weren't for his age. It wasall so much fascinating everything there was to learn. So many new things and when he was not studying magic and its history, he went to school and he did not have to pretend that he was stupid for once. In addition, Mrs. Macfarlane was nice. He continued to be bored but as his work was done, she left him relatively quiet. Thus, he could resume his reading - the books the Professor landed to him were spelled so the content usually appears unattractive to muggles (that's what was called non magical folk as he had learned). She had even allowed him to get stay in the library for school breaks.

He shared his reading time between magical and muggle books. The school library included a large section on classic novelists unlike Little Whinging and he could enjoy Rudyard Kipling, Jonathan Swift, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and many others. Of course, not everything was perfect. The first day he tried to mingle with the others but he did not know what to say and he did not know the games they played. In addition, he was just passing when they all knew themselves for a long time. As if to add to his misery, wanting to show that he wasn't stupid only served to make them angry with him as he could answer any questions of their teacher. They had isolated him at the first break and started to shake him, saying mean words and hitting him slightly. He had not defended himself, he didn't reacted. why would he? It wouldn't change anything, he knew it. That lesson he had learned a long time ago. At least, things were they clear now. It must come from him, finally, he realised.

This time there was no Dudley to utter threats to others if they ever tried to approach him or talk to him, he really had a problem. Being sad wouldn't do nothing to the situation anyway so he had made up his mind. He used to be alone by the way and had accommodated in it very well, thank you very much. The headmistress had authorized him to stay inside to read and that was all that he needed. He knew she felt sorry for him and it angered him. He could not stand her looks of pity then. Anger, contempt, hatred, he could manage but not this. He decided to cut off in the books, putting this issue aside as he had ever done before. Books were the only companions that had never disappointed him.

But there was another thing that really marked himduring those two weeks with the dark professor : the death of his parents. He had read " Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century" which narrated the tragic end of his parents, the real this time, where they had given their lives for him. His hatred for the Durleys had gone too far to forget now. He could never forgive them. They had lied all along, about his origins, the death of his parents. His whole life was a lie. It really upsetted him. Apparently, some bad guy named Voldemort, a wizard which one couldn't even pronounce the name - what was the purpose of having one if it was not to use it? - Had come to kill them and when he tried to attack him, fate had turned against him, it was not very clear as to how, but it made him disappear.

But the most amazing thing was that everyone thought he was the one to defeat the guy. He was only fifteen months at the time! And he was famous for that it seemed. Even in the magical world he was a freak. Or maybe it was proof that witches and wizards were fools. Probably both. But at least now he knew the truth. And also had to face reality. There was no escape possible, his only runaway was now closed. He would be recognized wherever he would try to hide in the wizarding world. Because of a stupid scar. He had loved it because it made him different, unique. Now he hated it because it reminded him of the death of his parents and his responsibility for it.

He would not return to the Dursleys, however. He was a freak, a curiosity and an abnormality on both sides. So was he. Neither of them wanted to know Harry. "Just Harry" had nothing of a particular interest indeed but he still had had projects and wishes. During those two weeks, he could develop other desires, other projects. Other regrets. Now he was back to the final issue. The time was almost up and he knew what he would do. It would be his way of winning even if he would really have liked to make them pay. He had even dreamed about how he would do so. Wait patiently until his majority approach. Wait until they would all be aslept. Eliminate the insects they were and later touched the legacy. Begin studying at a good university and show everyone that he could do it. But he would never have the opportunity becausehe will never return.

But he would missed being here with the dark professor.

Professor Snape was not of the talking kind and he had not dared to speak much in his presence because as soon as he spoke, it seemed to irritate further the already irritated Potions Master. However, it was the same person whom let him down in his private lab and that was the moment he preferred. He was usually left to choose a book from the library or do some homework assigned by the school teacher/ Then, he just had to sit down and occupied himself while Professor Snape was working. His only instruction was absolute silence. This was no problem to Harry. Observing the dark man as he brew complicated potions was something fascinating and strangely comforting. It was like being invited to a performance just for you. The man's face became very expressive in these times. He frowned, wrinkled his mouth, pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering unintelligible sentences and added strange ingredients (some frankly disgusting) in a large cauldron.

And there was the Music too. There has been Mozart, Bach, Mendelssohn, Verdi and many others on the little stage of the Potions Master. Harry had always loved music classes, although in his school, it often turned to just some singing and reading notes. It was like a secret language that only a few could understand. There were so many possibilities. There were quarter notes, quavers and all of the time dividing possibilities and these almost infinite shades... Even the rhythms were different depending on which tempo they were playing. And all these different sounds depending on the instruments. The crying violin, the percussion's measures, the tapping of the piano... each bringing their contribution to the whole in a no ending harmony.

He liked when the teacher took him and invited him to sit still with a wave of his hand or head. He was doing his homework or reading quietly while listening to the background music and it was the closest thing to paradise that he had ever known. Moreover, he had not once been punished (he did not think about the methods the dark man would have used to reprimand him) and all his wounds had begun to heal properly. He had looked carefully into the mirror of the bathroom. He still had sore ribs but less than before. The magic helped much faster as he was well fed and rested, apart from the nightmares of course, but that was nothing important.

And the potions Master had given him clothes. A little worn, completely black, but his size! According to him, it was his own clothes since childhood. And he lent them to him. He even had adjusted them to his size. It was really nice. The man would probably have rejected the argument. He did not seem to like Harry much, but he nevertheless gave him lots of things. And he was serious with wanting him to eat three meals a day. Harry had trouble with this part. He had always thought that if given the chance, he would eat as much as Dudley does, but in fact, while for the first time he was allowed to take place at the table for meals, this display of food on his plate just disgusted him.

Moreover, it did not really know how to use the cutlery (the Dursleys were not an example of this and he really not had the opportunity to really practice) so he had to observe the the dark man to copy him but was ashamed to have his manners corrected even as he tried to do rather scathing remarks, but he could not blame the professor. It felt awful not knowing how to behave at table. But at least it allowed him to improve and it was constructive. But even by eating slowly, with small bites, he knew he would be sick if he continued once he reached the middle of his plate. Mr Snape was not happy at all with him, accusing him of wasting food and Harry had to finish his meal. He had really felt guilty. So guilty that after bedtime, he could not sleep, his stomach knotted.

Finally, one hour after lying down, he had to rise in a hurry to go vomit. He had not reached the toilet in time. He was horrified, scared by imagining the consequences. The dark man came and Harry had been afraid. When he woke up Uncle Vernon after having a nightmare or when being sick (which hadn't happened since he was very little), it went always wrong, badly wrong. But the Potions Master had only sighed, muttered, cleaned what needed to be with his wand and gave him a potion to calm his stomach. He even made sure he went back to bed. Harry did not understand why he acted like that when he brought him nothing but trouble. He had not even yelled at him because of the mess. It was something that Harry did not understand.

The professor was really a nice person. He took care of him without appearing to do so. For the subsequent meals, he had left Harry to serve himself and did not comment on his small portion. Before, Harry was always hungry. Now his stomach always seemed too full and meal time was a huge moment of apprehension at the thought of having to eat, even the few amount of food that he could swallow. Fortunately, at school, he could cheat by giving his meal to Mrs. Macfarlane's dog as no one really watched what he really ate. He regretted only that it was coming soon to an end but reasoned as he had been lucky to meet the dark man. There was no affection, of course, Harry would not let himself get attached to anyone anyway. He did not even know if he could but Professor Snape had welcomed him in his home while it clearly bothered him, he had dealt with him and offered him more than the Dursleys ever did in just two weeks time. He had let him learn what he wanted, listen music with him and above all, protect him. The sensation was something strange and unusual but not unpleasant.

The Potions Master held his hand so he wouldn't fall on the steep path leading to Stonehaven. Without over-tighten his grip, without pulling on his arm, handing him firmly on the way by holding him while controlling his strength to not hurt him. Nobody had ever paid attention to what he didn't fall, didn't get lost or hurt. Of course, this was because the man wanted him to keep up the pace and to monitor him but still, it was ... nice. Even if he should not get used to it. It was not as if the professor was caring for him or anything. He still intended to write a letter to the man to thank him before his "departure". To say that he was grateful. He was not afraid, not really. Well, maybe a little but he did not want to think about it. When he began to doubt, he thought of all the reasons why it had to be done. He did not even think of trusting the teacher with his reasons or to seek help. Firstly, because he was sure he would not be believed. Secondly, he did not even liked him. He was just the annoying burden he had to take charge for two weeks and he would obviously be glad to get rid of him. Even if he was to believe him, what could he do? He wasn't family, even if he had known his parents. He had no right over him. And then, he would surely not want to keep him. He shouldn't even imagine it one second as he seemed so happy every time his eyes rested on the calendar. Nobody would want him for who he was. Just Harry. And Harry was not worth much.

For the Dursleys, he was a burden, a freak coupled with an idiot. For the wizarding world, he was some kind of savior, a symbol, many books simply made up the most ridiculous nicknames ofor him such as "the-boy-who-lived" and other aberrations. For the other muggles, he was an orphan alittle weird and that they did not care. And for the dark man, the nice man, he was just painful memories and as such, he just wanted for his relatives to return as soon as possible. Because he also, ultimately, did not care. Harry had yet tried to be the less intrusive possible for the Potions Master. He did not question or interrupt the Potions Master while working. Really. But the dark man always seemed disturbed and annoyed by him when their gazes crossed. And they had exchanged ptrobably no more than fifty words during his stay. It was a good thing finally that things were nearing completion.

He soon wouldn't annoy anyone anymore. Ever.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, another chapter!<strong>

I know that some of you seems to think there isn't enough talking in this fic but I must remind you that as the main characters aren't the talkative type, I must use the narrative mode to reflect their personalities so bear with me...

Comments? Please do!


	5. To choose a path

Hi!

Firstly, I must say how sorry I am for not updating for such a long time. I thank everyone whom left me messages and rewiews. Something happened that made me... not in the mood to write for awhile. I won't give up this story even if I may soon make some updating upon the previous chapters to review and correct them.

I will answer everyone whom has been kind enough to give me a review.

The next chapter is already half translated and will be published maybe in one month time, maybe before, I'm not sure.

**For now, enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

**Decisions**

* * *

><p>Two days left, was Severus' mantra to himself on this very Friday night. Sunday morning, first hour, he would swiftly bring back the Potter brat and his "I-am-so-much-better-than-anyone-in-the-world" air to his relatives and go back to his most cherish quiet and peace time. He could forget this experience and rank it in the "dustbin" place of his mind. Far away. The brat and his devilish green eyes. They reminded him of everything he had tried to overcome. To torment him, he was sure. The boy had just to stand there, silent and observing him as once Lily had. The boy reminded to him, by his mere presence, that he was the one responsible for his orphan status. His own guilt, an obvious sign of all of his life's sins. But soon, it would end. He would return to his previous life. His rich and busy life, with its reassuring habits. And when Potter would finally come to Hogwarts, he would just be a student like any other and all would go back to normal. He would also be as disrespectful as his father had been and inevitably attract trouble. And he, his only role would be to keep him alive, to honor his promise to Lily.<p>

Nothing more, end of the story.

Alas, he should have expected that problems would continue to put him down that summer. A Ministry official owl knocked at the window at dinner time and ,once its message handed over, flew out immediately, not waiting for a reply. He opened the message, resigned, already knowing the content. The Ministry was used to make regular "inspections" of his laboratory during the holidays to make sure he didn't worked on some dark magic or practiced forbidden experiments which only lead to an incredible mess each time they did it. Especially as no meaningful investigation of his work was really done, it was only to remind him that he was a Death Eater under surveillance. To intimidate him. As if they could. But as it always happened in Spinner's End, it did not really matter even if it irritated him to no end. But the real problem was the brat. He couldn't leave him alone here because, for Spinner's End to appear on the Ministry register as his only living place, he had to close every other houses he owned. And he didn't want to disclose the existence of Prince Cottage and, furthermore, of his heritance to the greedy hands of the Ministry. He had to prepare his return to his childhood home before tomorrow morning, 6:00 a.m. sharp, to accommodate the Ministry's officers.

Only one problem: where could he put the boy?

Looking for an unsolvable problem? Take a boy-who-lived-to-complicate-your-life, Ministry's bureaucrats with a rather ill-disposed mind towards you, a Dumbledore always absent when needed and little time to organize, press everything together and all you'll get would be a splitting headache. He took a painkiller and began to think at full speed while pacing. First, He should give another identity to the boy, something plausible otherwise it would arouse suspicion. Whose trust with the brat? There, he didn't have too many choices. If he were speaking to Order's members as the Weasleys, he would have to explain the situation, answer a multitude of questions, other members would be summoned to discuss and he would never be ready for the inspection. Furthermore, let the brat in the hands of the redheads' family leaded to a fatal accident possibility of 99% chance ... impossible. On the other hand, taking the kid to the Malfoys was like dropping a lamb in the forest with werewolves on a full moon night. Fabulous.

But at least, with a good story, he could make them swallow the potion without too many questions. They were just too polite to ask anyway. He had to just create another identity for the boy. If not, the only thing he could return to Potter's relatives would be a small box to hold his ashes. Simple, really, he thought sarcastically. Well, he so **just** had to find a child who would be the same age as Potter, raised among Muggles and therefore ignorant of the wizarding world, forgotten by all, a child whose parents would have died during the war and for whom Severus would feel responsible enough to explain that he took him in... There were many possibilities for the last (he had unfortunately made many orphans during raids) but he needed a child whom anyone would have forgotten about and who was tied to him, at least enough to justify that he would personally take care of the child... No, really, that was child's play!

Suddenly, the idea, or rather the memory, gushes.

The Dark Lord couldn't bear rebellion, let alone among the purebloods being part of his own ranks. The bloodtraitors. Marcus Hordswell, Death Eater and, for a long time, proud of it, had the misfortune to fall in love with a Muggle. It had been totally unexpected, probably even for him. A young blonde woman, rather ordinary, but with beautiful green eyes that reminded him of those of Lily. He remembered them perfectly, as it was he who had killed her with an Avada Kedavra, one evening in September, nearly 11 months after Marcus' defection, while Lucius was "taking care" of the traitor. He remembered. Before dying, she had begged him to spare her for the welfare of her baby. He had been so shocked. However, before he could find a way to perhaps save her, Greyback had appeared as "reinforcements", and he had preferred to end it rather than let the werewolf have his fun. A quick death is sometimes a precious gift in time of war.

Later, the Order had found a child's room half fitted on the first floor of the cottage where the couple had lived. But not a trace of the child. Dumbledore was confirmed after examination by St. Mungo's Healers that the woman had actually carried a pregnancy to term and that delivery was probably recent, a month or two at the most. It was assumed that the child was probably entrusted anonymously to a Muggle instance in order to protect him or her until the threat had disappeared or until they could leave the country safely. As it was wartime, and as Marcus did not had other relatives, nobody had ever bothered to take the steps to research for the child. Anyway, there was no orphanage in the wizarding world, you were either supported by relatives or you were left to the care of the Muggles waiting for the age of your Hogwarts' letter.

This would made his task and lie easier. He would not even have to apply a glamour. This, Lucius would have been quick to spot it and ask questions. It would be enough to just make the boy swallow a potion to lengthen his hair and change their color. Marcus had light brown hair according to his memories and the woman's were dark blond. At this age, all children were more or less alike (at least, in his mind, they were) and, with a little muggle makeup, he should be able to hide the lightning-shaped scar complemented by the provision of a fringe to complete the concealment. There would be no Harry Potter but the Hordswell's heir. He still needed a first name. Harry was out of question, of course. Julian? Gregory? Daniel? He turned to the child who was watching him walk back and forth, darting upon him the green eyes of his precious Lily and he had his answer. Evan. In honor of Lily Evans, before she became a Potter. He called an elf and asked him to prepare some things for the kid.

He explained the situation briefly to the boy, telling him he would have to drop him to some friends of his, that his name now was Evan Hordswell and that if he wanted to stay, say, alive and well, he needed to remember this and that he couldn't deviate from the story of his "parents" that Severus had created. That he had been found in the middle of the night on the doorstep of the Wool orphanage in London with only his name and birth date embroidered on the blanket he was covered with. The police had assumed that his parents could not afford to keep him and had not been able to seek help from the authorities because it has been assumed that they were probably on illegal status in the country, as no child birth corresponding to his had been officially registered in Great Britain. He had met Severus by accident while running away from the orphanage two weeks ago and, as Severus could not bring him back there due to the closure of the orphanage for renovations, the Potions Master had decided to keep the brat with him at the moment before seeking for a safe placement later. Simple but credible. And with the Malfoys' muggle lack of knowledge, it would go like a letter by owl post.

He went to make the floo call before doing his charge's "relooking".

**oO°Oo**

It had been hard to resist, he had warmly thanked his Occlumency for that. Anyway, now he understood why James Potter had always sought to keep short hair despite his eternal birds nests posing as a capillary hair mass. He first gave the boy the color switch potion, witnessing as the boy's hair and eyebrows went to dark brown to dirty blond. He had to admit that the change was quite spectacular. And undetectable, no unfortunate return to the original color would occur without the antidote, and it would last three weeks. It was a product he had decided to make business with as Narcissa had seemed to enjoy it (discreetly of course). It had quicly gone very popular among the witches, opening up rather unexpected possibilities on cosmetics. Not really the kind of potion he had founded the company for but very lucrative which enabled him to fund research for longer and more "serious" projects. And thus was born the "Pretty Witch" collection. Looking the hair Potter's son lengthening, he thought that, just to get to see it, it was worth the pain. The untamable mane had gently but surely transformed into beautiful little ringlets, very tight.

The boy had not moved, not reacted. Actually, since he had announced his plan and expressed his agreement (which wasn't really required as there was no way he would let a child dictate his life), he had said nothing. Good, he thought, at least he wasn't making things more difficult than they were and, anyway, he had no time for that. He went to get another potion to stiffen the mane that reached, once the loops domesticated, a half back length. The boy's glasses had to stay at the Cottage because he would have too much looked as the carbon copy of James Bloody Potter with them, even by changing the shape. He used a spell of temporary correction and the kid seemed surprised. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The boy really thought he was going to really let him bump into the Malfoys' expensive furniture? He cut one lock on the front to make bangs before applying the ultra covering foundation (as the seller's shop he quickly went, promised) and then the powder on the scar. The effect was startling. He told the kid how to reapply the foundation before pushing him, bag in hand, in the fireplace with a clear statement:

"Malfoy Manor"

* * *

><p>Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were in the welcoming room waiting for Severus and their guest. The request of their friend had intrigued them but Lucius remembered the events the Potions Master had briefly mentioned. Hordswell was not one of those he had been close with but he regretted having to kill him. The Hordswells were an old family, a noble lineage dating back to Merlin. What a mess that he allowed himself to be tempted by a Muggle. Not even a half-blood or even a muggleborn. A simple Muggle. He just couldn't fathom it. Especially as Hordswell had never been the last to promote muggle hunting when he was a proper Death Eater. Unfathomable. He had killed him quickly and had been able to witness Severus' confusion. Which was strange enough to make him wary of the situation. He did not understand at first and was about to join his friend, to urge him to end her or to let him have fun with this sub-species of a creature but, as she briefly had turned her bright green gaze toward him, he had understood.<p>

Severus'feelings for the mudblood Evans was not a secret and it was true that the muggle's eyes had been horribly alike. The young man's dilemma had been clear and understandable. Lucius could only imagine what his companion had felt back there. It was like asking him to kill the woman he loved. But it had been their mission and they could not retreat. This had to be done, no matter the repercussions. The Dark Lord did not tolerate failures. Nevertheless, Greyback had appeared and Severus had made his decision. Death by Greyback would have been infinitely more gruesome. After that, Severus isolated himself for several days, refusing to speak to anyone, even to him. His friend was so much more sensitive than he allowed himself to appear. Lily Evans Potter's death had then dreadfully impacted Severus ten times more than the one of the muggle woman and frankly, Lucius had thought that he wouldn't ever fully recover from it. And he had to admit that, even now, there was a before and an after.

The floo arrival made him come out of his thoughts.

Severus, dressed in his usual black robes, was dragging a boy with long blond hair, rather small and frail for his age , by one hand while the other carried a bag. The boy's things probably. Severus bestowed the usual greetings before insuring again his thanks to care for the boy during his absence. Narcissa dismissed the thanks before ensuring that they would take good care of the boy until his return. The Potions Master told them goodbye and left. With not even one last look for the child. Lucius looked closer. He had not moved nor uttered a word since his arrival, his blank face looking towards the fireplace, where Severus had disappeared. His posture was stiff. He was not comfortable. But at the same time, what could one expect? A magical child brought up by Muggles, an indelible trace of what happened when the foolish were to mix their blood with inferior beings. Merlin only knew how the boy would succeed in integrating into their world, if he would ever succeed that is. What a pity! Nevertheless, he had promised Severus to welcome the boy in his house but he hoped it wouldn't last long. One could not know what the boy could infect by his mere presence in his home, he snorted disdainfully.

"I'm going to show you your room, if you're ready?" Narcissa kindly asked to cut the heavy silence. The child turned to her, his face perfectly composed and neutral.

"I am, Mrs. Malfoy. Thank you for welcoming me in your home", the boy politely said, his voice calm even if slightly wary.

"My pleasure. Severus is a family friend and our son's godfather. Draco, our son, is absent tonight. He has a sleep over at a friend but he will be here tomorrow. You can have fun together until the return of Severus", Narcissa said, casting a piercing glance at her husband who seemed to want to object at letting his only heir play with a muggle-raised half-breed.

Wisely choosing to say nothing, he watched as the boy grabbed his bag, looking at his face, frowning. He seemed familiar but he supposed it was due to Marcus. By cons, the eyes were inherited from his Muggle mother, alas, even if the color was beautiful, he had to admit. This explained perhaps why Severus felt responsible for this unfortunate burden. As it was only for one night or even until tomorrow night, it shouldn't be too much trouble but he would watched closely the boy's interactions with his son to monitor the issue. He did not want Severus' protégé to instill false and ridiculous ideas about muggles to his only heir. The boy bowed politely before following Narcissa with his bag.

Later, Narcissa joined her husband to share her impressions of the child.

"What do you think?" He asked her directly as a house-elf brought two glasses of a delightful red wine to him and his partner who seized her own carefully while looking at the fire, thoughtful.

She took a sip of the drink, savoring its flavors while preparing her answer.

"It's hard to say", she finally confessed. "He is a quiet child, a shy one I would say but his eyes are constantly on alert. I'm not sure what to think about it."

"Really?" Lucius simply said, leaving her to further elaborate. "This is a rare exception where your talents are defeated, my dear."

"I did not fail", she cut sharply. "He acts so polite but I can feel there's much more to see, there is something going on there. He is much too young to have a so well formed mask Lucius… Something happened to this child", she explained, worry tainted her soft voice.

"You would be impressed by a half-breed in shorts?" Lucius laughed mockingly. "You're imagining things, my dear."

"Do not play this game with me, Lucius", Narcissa hissed, eyes narrowing. "You let your prejudices speaking without thinking when you should reserve your judgment. But it would not be the first time that your beliefs would obscure it", she taunted.

Lucius knew when his wife was angry and he knew he had clearly provoked her. It was true that Narcissa's intuitions were of an astonishing finesse sometimes and there was little that one could expect to hide from her. She was an excellent judge of character. And as much as he did not like how she reminded him of the disapproval she bore about his involvement with the Dark Lord, he knew she would never do so in public, let alone before his former fellow Death Eaters. She had been raised as a Black, in the traditions and beliefs about blood purity, but, if she was aware of the innate superiority conferred by it, she was nevertheless tolerant of the ones inferior to her as long as it benefitted her need and mind. Including children and possible allies.

Narcissa was a witch many underestimated as she had not participated in the last war but she was a Slytherin, too, and she knew how to conceal her skills under her perfect wife and distinguished mother's halo. He knew she was perfectly capable of killing if it were to protect her family. With refinement and grace. She had proved herself when the time had come for Abraxas Malfoy to "say goodbye." She had taken the "care" of her stepfather in her own hands when he had "unexpectedtly" fallen ill from dragon pox, the latter being too paranoid to allow a stranger to look after him. She did not even tremble or hesitate. He knew he would be better not to push her too far. Just in case.

He chooses to change focus and go back into the good graces of his lovely wife:

"Maybe Draco could show him around tomorrow morning?" He suggested, resigned.

"This is a great idea, my friend", Narcissa nodded, smiling and knowing she had won the round.

* * *

><p>He had spent a great day at the Notts. Theodore was part of a good pureblood family, even though his father was strict and frankly rather creepy. He did not fail to entertain him even if his friend had a tendency not to obey him as Gregory and Vincent would but he was intelligent and his conversation was pleasant at the last. They had talked about Quidditch (a little, Theo was not really a fan), discussed Hogwarts and their respective tutors late into the night. It was nice to visit him even though they weren't really close, like he was with Blaise Zabini. Theo would rather read than play Quiddditch, it was just plain boring but he took advantage of these visits to get help with his assignments. A positive point at least. Pansy or Millicent didn't really matter; they were girls for Merlin's sake! They were boring and talked all the time! He almost regretted having to return. Almost. He was bored at times despite his Manor private tutoring sessions and numerous toys. There were few other children there except during social events and loneliness weighed on him a bit. He did not understand why his parents rarely allowed him to visit his friends and always with an escort. But anyway, he would enjoy his return because he would see his father.<p>

It was the weekend and his father was usually more available. With any luck, he would allow him to fly alone (there was few chance with a well placed pout… maybe it could work!) and he could have a try to this move he had read at Theo's in "Quidditch Through the Ages". Otherwise, his father would perhaps take him in his office to give him a practical lesson on family and the importance of their own in the wizarding world. Draco loved these moments there. Not for the content of the speech itself - which was pretty boring - but because he had his father all to himself for once. His father paid attention only to him. While going down to go home via floo, he tried to compose a straight face for taking leave of his hosts. He could not do it very well yet but he practiced and tried to make his parents proud of him. Especially when outside or in front of guests. "A Malfoy gives the example, this is why you must always be beyond reproach in order to honor your family," his father repeated.

And he very well intended to satisfy him.

**oO°Oo**

He arrived just for breakfast. He cordially greeted his mother whom gave him a tender smile and asked how was his stay at the Notts. He sought his father's eyes and was disappointed not to see him but assumed he would be in his office, intending to go greet him later when a pale face appeared before him:

"Who's that?" He spontaneously asked.

His mother clicked her tongue, addressing her reprobation of his lack of etiquette. He caught himself. His mother was not as strict as his father but she did not tolerate rudeness:

"Forgive me, mother. I was surprised", he apologized. "I did not know we were expecting guests."

"We didn't", Narcissa absolved him, her smile returned. "I present to you Evan Hordswell. Severus, your godfather, let him in our care upon his return tonight at the last. I was waiting for you to show him around after breakfast. Your father is still in his office talking to the Minister by floo. He'll join you at the Quidditch stadium in an hour, I think."

"Thank you mother", Draco replied meekly while taking a bite of his jam covered toast, though exasperated by the presence of the boy he would obviously have to deal all day. "I could lend a broom to Evan", he suggested hopefully.

"I don't know if Evan flies, darling", his mother reluctantly explained. "Evan was raised by muggles."

"Muggles!" Draco exclaimed, horrified. "But he's not a pureblood then!"

"Draco Lucius Malfoy", Narcissa rebuked in a dangerously soft voice, her eyes narrowed.

Swallowing his unease, Draco turned reluctantly to his unwanted "guest" - whom had yet to open his mouth - and politely greet him with a discreet encouraging nod of his mother:

"I beg you to excuse my behavior. I know you're not responsible for the environment in which you grew up and I will do anything to make you feel at ease", he apologized.

Satisfied, Narcissa invited them to begin their walk through the Rose garden and continue along the lake before returning to the Quidditch pitch, pointing firmly to Draco not to fly on his own without Lucius or her being present, not trusting house elves to monitor him. She still had to give instructions for the following week receipt to the house-elves, and confirming the last orders to the caterers. She would join them later. Draco dragged Evan to walk around the area. He took a pleasant if slightly condescending and drawling tone, derived from the one used by his father, to talk about the origins of the manor, its architecture and improvements made over the centuries by his family. He spoke of his father and his very important role in the Ministry where he had the attention of the Minister himself, which was normal of course, given his status in wizarding society.

His father was after all one of the most prominent members of the Wizengamot as were his ancestors since the creation of the Wizengamot itself. After a moment, he realized that his interlocutor had not opened his mouth during the last half hour and turned his head toward him. The boy's eyes were attentive and seemed to expect him to go on. This pleased that Draco to no end as he was not used to people listening that much to him (Theo tended to ignore what he called his whining and prefered to immerse himself in one of his stupid books while Blaise interrupted him with silly questions and as for Crabbe and Goyle ... well, he was not sure they understand half of what he said). So he continued, while leading his guest into the Quidditch stadium, explaining the rules and the play of the different players after Evan has admitted not knowing anything about the game, which was a crime in itself. Of course, he mentioned that he hoped to run for a position at Hogwarts, in the Slytherin team of course. He still hesitated between being a seeker or a chaser.

Once at the pitch, he headed for the locker room to pick up two brushes for himself and Evan. After all, he could learn. He took pride in his new Margotin Speedgoal beechwood, featuring the latest spells and got out his old broomstick, the Nimbus-Act Fast for Evan, with a full set of protection. They only had to wait for an adult to join them. He explained the theory to an Evan still interested, while making him put on the helmet, knee and elbow (he did not need them as he was not an inexperienced player!). He hoped someone would join them soon. The weather was great and there wasn't any wind. It was perfect to try the Huntsworth dive which was to climb very quickly before turning abruptly and dropping nose down for a few meters before taking a step back to destabilize his opponent. He was eager to try it. He could not at Theo's. Really, what wizard worthy of said name hated to fly?

Now, where were his parents?

* * *

><p>Narcissa greeted elegantly the return of the Potions Master. The Ministry' inquirers had made a quick inspection of Spinner's End before letting go, probably due to a little hand from Lucius there. She graciously did the little talk with Severus before entering the thick of things, while walking the Potions Master toward the Quidditch Stadium:<p>

"He hasn't slept well, maybe not at all", she quietly informed him.

"Who? The boy?" Severus asked, surprised by the abrupt change in conversation.

"Yes, I left him in the room to read a little into the chair beside the bed and I found him in the same position this very morning", she explained worriedly. "The bed was unmade but I'm pretty sure he did not set a foot in it", she added.

"Why?" Severus replied, puzzled, before declaring, sarcastic: "I guess the mattress was not to his liking, I will make sure he apologizes before we left."

"You can't blame a child for not feeling comfortable being left among strangers without notice", Narcissa quietly pointed.

"Do not be deceived my dear", the dark professor disdainfully replied. "The brat is doing everything he can to be pitied by others. You shouldn't let him."

Surprised by the acerbic reply, Narcissa could not help asking:

"He had to cause you great trouble for you to be this hostile."

"You have no idea", Severus muttered to conclude the discussion.

Except that Narcissa wasn't finished:

"Anyway, I find him still far too small for his age and he hardly ate anything this morning", she said, trying to express her concern. "And he is very quiet and shy." "And on guard", she mentally added.

"He hadn't yet made his growth spurt, I suppose", Snape dryly dismissed. His cauldron was beginning to boil there. She had no rights. A child is necessarily small and if the kid is difficult, what could he do?

"Undoubtedly", Narcissa replied, miffed.

Severus was silent a moment until, suddenly, wrenching screams rose from the pitch. They rushed.

* * *

><p>Lucius was pleased. The interview with Fudge had taken place exactly as planned and the vapid politician had assured him that the inspection at Severus would only be a short routine check when he suavely commented on how annoying it was that the godfather of his own son, an esteemed Hogwarts' professor, was still suspected - wrongly of course - of prohibited practices several years after the defeat of You-Know-Who, thus implying that he felt insulted by the willingness of the Ministry to involve one of his close ones in shady deals. And it was also an opportunity to put a highlight to the injustice done to his friend who had sacrificed himself to spy on the Dark Lord for the good of the Wizarding world. True or not, it was the official version and he was glad to be able to use it.<p>

The Minister had profusely apologized and had immediately sent an owl to his team to stop this inspection and prevent futures ones. Severus would be released within a few minutes. He discussed a few more bills he hoped to present at the next session, deftly manipulating that idiot Fudge in making some well placed suggestions. Finally, he was able to conclude the meeting with greetings that made him cringe as they were not only long but full of obsequious politeness. He could now join his son who was in charge of their "guest" at the Quidditch stadium and had to impatiently wait for his permission to fly.

Grimacing at the thought of leaving him alone with Severus' protégé, he hurried to take his walking stick and get to the Quidditch area. He had never complained about his friend's half-blood status and as his talent made up for that fact. He had just decided to forget about it. And if the Dark Lord had recognized this talent and said that his blood status did not matter, it was enough for him. Furthermore, the Prince was a very respectable family. And then Severus had always been discreet and loyal friend despite their age difference. A bit like a little brother. As were Ambrosius. Ironic that his little brother had had a name synonymous of immortality when he died so young. His memory was still sharp despite it happening so long ago. When Ambrosius had failed the test of magical abilities. He was a squib. Unacceptable for a Malfoy. After unsuccessfully trying various experimental treatments (most illegally made and very painful) in order to "develop" his magic, Ambrosius had an "accident". Organized by Abraxas.

Their mother had begged in vain that he be spared, but the harsh patriarch had not listened. The Malfoy's spouse was just to give birth to heirs, not to give her opinion after all. Galatea Malfoy did not survive very long after that, letting herself die of grief. Lucius, three years older than Ambrosius at the time, still remembered perfectly the games shared with his little brother in the house when they were playing Gobstones or Snitch and Seeker. Ambrosius followed him everywhere, always shy and silent. He still had said nothing when his father began to beat him, accusing him of disgracing the Malfoy's name. He became sad, but he always found the strength to smile for Lucius. One day, however, Abraxas had taken Ambrosius away. He always would remember his little brother, pulled forcefully by his arm by their father, waving him goodbye before disappearing. Definitely.

Ambrosius was only four.

Severus did not look like Ambrosius. At least not physically. But he remembered the boy's first year, abused by his classmates for his half-blood status, his apparent poverty and his mudblood Gryffindor friend. He was proud and refused to give away his emotions but he had the same eyes as Ambrosius, the same expectation and the same thirst for recognition. These eyes had silently asking him not to drop it. And there was also the same dignity to act as if the blows were nothing, as if everything was well. To act "as if". It was what he had felt then. He did not know what to do at the beginning or whether he should really get involved so he was content to ensure that, at least, the Slytherins let Severus in peace. He was uncomfortable with the silent gratitude of his younger classmate, even if his motives were unknown to the one concerned.

And he intended them to remain so.

In Severus third year, he had decided to act when he saw the young man walking through the steps with difficulty, the rigid and stiff body focusing his exertion in order not to let show how bas he was. Lucius knew then that the young man would not seek Pomfrey. He had spared the pride of Severus by revealing his own wounds. He had what it takes to care for them but had waited patiently for his friend to brew potions. He had drunk without asking questions and he had not missed the look of mingled pride and joy hidden in the eyes of the younger slytherin. Pleased to have been useful, to have done something right. To have returned the favor and not being indebted. Even now, he never spoke of Ambrosius. To anyone, even Narcissa. The children were officially presented after their first magical accident in purebloods household so his baby brother disappearance had not appeared strange to anyone. It was like he had never existed. It was his secret, his shame.

Protected Severus had become natural and the man himself had superimposed the face of his deceased brother. Severus was a good friend. He knew there were things they did not agree on and he had his own doubts about the loyalty of his friend to the Dark Lord but as he was not certain, the status quo suited him perfectly . Snape was faithful to him and a friend he could often rely on. During raids, he had saved him more than once. He could have been arrested a dozen times at least if the man had not joined to bring him back to reality when he let go his destructive impulses against Muggles and other impurities that were polluting the magic as his father had taught him. Even when he had not been called to the scene of the raid Severus was often watching from afar when he knew that Lucius would be there, despite his ardous work at his laboratory for the Dark Lord and to obtain his Mastery. And after the war, he also took time to see Draco and teach him his art. They spoke together also. Severus knew how to listen. Whether it to be on business, his marriage or the latest results of the National Quidditch's team.

Yes, Severus was a good friend.

He could trust him and that's also why he had entrusted the safety of his family into his hands. He was a good godfather for Draco and he had never failed when he needed help. Ever. He hoped that Draco could find such a friend, too, someday. There were of course other children of noble pureblood families but he had to be careful to avoid problems. Draco could be used against him and he knew, relationship or not, pureblood or not, that it _could _happen. That was why he limited Draco's visits outside of the Manor and why he was always accompanied by at least two elves and his tutor. And he would make sure that he had the emergency portkey and Malfoy's pendant to repatriate his son if his health ever deteriorated. He walked briskly to the Quidditch stadium, deep in thought without really paying attention to what was happening in the air. All he saw when he entered the arena was his terrified son, held only by his collar by the kid brought by Severus whom was perched on one of their brooms. He was so astounded that he did not react in time when Draco was released less than a meter above the ground while Evan landed softly.

As if nothing had happened.

Lucius felt the seed of blinded anger take roots in his heart. Since the fall of the Dark lord, he had tried to contain his impulses better, only freeing them from time to time on his house-elves or one or two muggles in a discrete and obscure alley but right now he could feel the familiar feeling of lost control seizing him and running down his veins. This kind of mudblood had almost killed his heir. His son. He could not let this go, he had to pay. He whipped out his wand, but assured himself first that Draco was alright. His son seemed on the verge of a nervous breakdown, which could be understood and screamed, seeing him approach:

"It's his fault! His fault! I swear!"

Lucius turned to the boy who had not moved, imperturbable, nor protested against the accusation. A sinister smile plastered to his face as he cast the Cruciatus.

* * *

><p>Severus had expected many things but not that. Quidditch accident, a fight between the two boys but seing Lucius Malfoy, a demented smile on his face, inflicting the Cruciatus tirelessly to HarryEvan while Draco sat and watched his father, horror written on his features, was unexpected. To desecrate the image of the father, he could not imagine a better way to do so. He gasped for a moment. Merlin, he thought. Lucius had discovered that Evan was really Harry Potter. How could he save Lily's son and leave the property alive with him? He did not have time to act, anesthetized for half a second by the confusion that Narcissa intervened, throwing a well placed Petrificus to her husband. He resumed walking. And rushed to Harry, one hand in his robes (There are reflexes that would never disappear) to get out of the right potion to counter the effects of the Cruciatus and the other on his wand to keep Lucius at bay. Even frozen, the expression of the Malfoy patriarch was so hateful that Severus shuddered. He used his wand to make the potion be swallowed by the child as the little body shook badly before choosing to put the boy in a therapeutic sleep to held restoring the damaged nerves.

He took the child in his arms, still firmly holding his wand while Lucius fought the spell to free himself, the fury in his eyes still clearly visible. For her part, Narcissa had knelt with Draco, who had the cheeks wet with tears, moaning and muttering unintelligible words without interruption against the chest of his mother. Severus walked over and gave him a powerful peace draught so he could explain what had happened. Nestled in the arms of his mother, Draco explained, between his sobs, that he had had enough of waiting for someone to supervise them and as he was no novice, he had decided that there was nothing wrong with making some warming moves.

Evan, he told them, had advised him not to do it and to wait but he had laughed at him and left him on the ground. After a few warm-ups, he was bored and decided to attempt the Huntsworth dive but, when he had been about one hundred foot high, he had slipped on the handle of the broom and had lost his balance, falling toward the ground. He had no recollection of what happened having closed his eyes until his fall was abruptly stopped. Evan had caught him just in time before he hit the ground. Lucius had come up then, and thinking that he was the object of his father wrath for disobeying, he accused Evan instead. After, Lucius had just turned to Evan and did not stop throwing the Cruciatus until they arrived. He whined about the fact that he was so sorry, that he did not want it, that Evan saved him until Severus forced a dreamless potion into him and teh child went limp in his mother's arms. Severus turned then a blank look to Lucius, who looked pale as death, just freed from the stunner.

He turned away and after a short bow to Narcissa who was rocking her son while going back to the Manor, he went to apparition area, the damaged child in his arms. Arrived at Prince Cottage, he vanished the quidditch set of protection and placed the little boy in the living room, transfiguring the sofa into a bed and, after checking that everything was in order as far as possible, he ventured to ask an elf a double shot of firewhiskey to think over his carelessness in self-criticism. He had nearly failed. A few more minutes ... he emptied his glass with a snap. He had put Harry in danger by entrusting him to the Malfoys, he should have taken into account the uncontrollable violent impulses of Lucius even if he could understand his reaction in light of the misinterpretation of the facts had been subjected to, but he should have left Harry/Evan explained.

He sighed. Lucius had disappointed him. They had done terrible things as Death Eaters and they had killed, more often than not, adults and children altogether, but never, never did Lucius tortured a child for free. Ever. This was the only limit he had never crossed. Until now. He knew, however, that Lucius was not a bad man and Severus was deeply attached to him. He had continued this friendship, not because of the possible return of the Dark Lord but because Lucius was his friend. His only friend and he trusted him. To some extent, that is. He sighed again. He would think about that later. He sat on the edge of the bed and mechanically cleared the fringe of the boy's forehead. Ironically, the foundation still perfectly masked the lightning-shaped scar. He put his face in his hands, tired. Tomorrow he would bring the kid back to his relatives. How was he to justify what had happened to the boy's guardians? He should have taken care of Potter, that was his goal and even if the kid was arrogant and unbearable, he did not deserve this. No child did.

The realization hit him hard.

A child. Potter was a child. It was stupid to say but it was as if a veil was torn suddenly before his eyes. And it gave a different perspective to the events of the last weeks. He expected the son of James - and Lily he corrected himself - to behave like an adult, to have the same cheekiness and wit as his father, the late James Potter. But Harry Potter was a child. A nine years old child. A child punished for having saved the life of his friend. Tortured for it. Even after having ingested the potion, the tremors persisted and they would not disappear before at least one more hour. He could not give him another potion for now to avoid unfortunate interactions and it put him on his last nerves. He would have to do a very precise diagnosis to assess the possible after effects on the boy's nerves but fortunately, there should be nothing irreversible. He would make a full assessment in the morning, for now, the Cruciatus would only distort any other diagnosis. He just had to wait the boy's waking now.

He sat on the chair to the right side of the sofa and waited.

**oO°Oo**

Harry felt good, warm and rested. Too anxious to sleep last night, he seemed to have catch up on sleep. He was perplexed by this. When had he been gone to sleep? Slowly, he recalled his memories. The abandonment of the Potions Master with no explanation other than the role he would have to play had shaken him. More than he wanted to admit. Again, he was just a package to be deposited elsewhere when it hindered the passage. Without asking his opinion, regardless of what he thought or without even explaining why he was abandoned. The teacher had given him his instructions, took him into the fireplace (it had not burned!), had filed him and left without even a goodbye. At least now if he had any doubt about the Potions Master's feelings towards him, there wasn't any left. Their departure had been so violent, so brutal that he did not even pay attention to his new appearance or his lack of glasses. He blamed himself for letting his emotions take over this.

He should have known better.

He owed nothing to the teacher and the latter owed him nothing either. He had no reason, no right to blame him. However, by looking at the now empty fireplace, he really wanted to hold a grudge toward the man. The Malfoys were a strange couple and unwelcoming behind their friendly ways. Mr. Malfoy had inspected him the way one looks at any useless object before they lose interest and his wife, with her inquisitive eyes, her conversation elegant and graceful gestures, had spent her time watching him as if he was some strange beast. The professor had left him alone there. And in a no safe place otherwise he would not have asked him to change his name and remember this story about his so called "past". The room he had been assigned was great. Too great. He had had a feeling of suffocation. All the furniture was near the ground and the bed had no canopy.

There was nowhere to hide.

He had wished good night to his hostess, claiming to want to read a little before going to bed. In fact, he really just wanted to go to the closet, the only place sufficiently closed for him to feel safe. But even there, he had felt ill at ease. The presence of the dark man, even if it had been at the other end of the hallway and even if he did not have the possibility to go to him, had kind of reassuring him because the man had never hurt him even when angry. The Malfoys, he felt, were perfectly capable of it. Otherwise, why invent this story? In the morning, he got out of the cabinet and, after having showered and changed, he resumed his place in the chair while waiting to be picked up as he didn't know if it was safe to go out alone. The little appetite he had evaporated under the intense scrutiny of Lady Malfoy and he painfully nibbled on a piece of apple and toast, swallowing some of his pumpkin juice glass. Then Draco had come.

At first, it did not seem to start well but they came out to visit the property and the conversation, very informative, helped him relax. He had nothing to do and it suited him perfectly. He was afraid to say or do something that would irritate his host. It was the first time that prolonged contact with another child of his age was going so well. Reaching the Quidditchs stadium, he had followed Draco's instructions and put on the equipment. The prospect of flying seemed truly fantastic even if the idea of using a broom was a little strange. He had always been jealous of the birds passing in the sky. Going where they wanted to, nothing prevented them to do what they wanted to. Just the freedom to fly and go far away as it pleased them. How many times he had wanted to just do that when at the Dursleys? And then his friend (?) had become impatient and decided to start warming up.

He recalled the instruction of his mother but Draco had laughed at him and he did not dare stop him. He felt that it was going to go wrong and stood ready. He had observed how Draco had handled the broom just in case. Quickly, his intuition was verified and he saw Draco fall. He had acted without thinking and had grabbed him narrowly, thanking all the gods for the temporary correction of his sight, hurting his arm in the maneuver, which prevented him from landing Draco smoothly. Then, everything went very fast. He had crossed the angry gaze of Mr. Malfoy and he recognized the gleam of madness inside. The same his Uncle Vernon had. At that time, he knew that his fate was sealed. He could not escape. But he felt hurt when Draco still accused him even though it was predictable. Dudley did it all the time. But he did not have time to dwell on the matter as the pain, unspeakable, unbearable, broke out in every cell of his body. He could not remember much after that.

He opened his eyes to find the Potions Master's eyes fixed on him. He shuddered. The dark man would probably be very angry against him. Draco had to tell him his version of the story and he would be punished for sure. He felt very sorry because he had certainly embarrassed the professor in front of his friends and disrupted his schedule so that he had to take care of him. Once more. These eyes were locked on him and made him feel nervous. He preferred the yelling and blow stuff from his uncle, at least it was fast and he knew what to expect. Waiting was worse. He preferred to end himself the ordeal:

"I'm sorry", he breathed softly.

The man raised one eyebrow:

"And why exactly are you apologizing for, Mr. Potter?" The Potions Master asked before getting up to grab two bottles on the bedside table and presenting them to him to swallow. One red and one blue.

He complied quickly, without flinching despite their vile taste, before answering.

"For causing trouble", he answered honestly.

Professor Snape shook his head and gravely announced:

"I think it's time for you to go home, Mr Potter. Obviously, your stay in the wizarding world hasn't been the most… profitable to you", he articulated cautiously. "I should not have taken you to the Malfoys. I'll bring you back first thing tomorrow morning and I will explain the situation to your relatives. Are you hungry?"

A lump formed itself in his throat and convinced him that the professor certainly bore a grudge toward him for spoiling his relationship with his friends so Harry shook his head. He didn't deserve to eat. Severus continued:

"It is not surprising. You need to rest. I checked and there will be no consequences for your adventure if it's any consolation for you", the man explained dryly.

Without letting Harry answer anything, Severus lifted him from the couch and propped him against his chest to carry him more easily. He had never done that before. Distressed by the sudden closeness, Harry was completely stiff and rigid, his ribs and arm with had been painfully hurt when rescuing Draco chose to remind themselves to him, but he ignored them. There was nothing unhealthy in the embrace of the man and he allowed himself to relax. Soon, he surprised himself by nesting and leaning against the man, on the strong shoulder of the dark potionnist. There was something comforting in the fog of his confused thoughts, he could just point out that the Professor smelled of the ingredients and herbs worked throughout the day.

Harry could not remember ever having been carried in such a manner. He felt good, relaxed and could not know that the potion he had swallowed wasn't only a muscle relaxant but also affected his fears and self-protective reflexes. He took advantage of the moment, without thinking for once, and it was good. The walking pace and heart beat of his protector was strangely calming and his eyelids became heavy. He sank back into sleep to the satisfaction of Severus whom cast a spell to treat the dislocated shoulder. It would probably be tender for a few days. The kid needed rest to heal. He would sleep all day and probably until noon into the next one with the dose he had swallowed. Putting the boy in bed, he thought to make him ingest a potion of nutrition to avoid the child being awakened by hunger.

He would need to give specific instructions to Potter's relatives for the next few days, he thought while joining his own bed.

* * *

><p>He awoke suddenly, disoriented and confused. He sat up suddenly and winced when his body gave him a painful reminder of yesterday events. He blushed, thinking back of the unusual way he had let himself go into the professor's arms. The professor. A lump formed in his throat. He had said that he would bring him back to his relative as soon as possible. He was most probably glad to finally get rid of him. He looked out the window. It was still dark outside but a shade of pink announced the next rise of the sun. His breathing quickened. He would not return there. He imagined what would happen if ever the teacher, the Potions Master, a wizard, another man boasted of abnormality were to disembark at the Dursleys. His Uncle and Aunt will probably show an affable face then. Uncle Vernon would even go so far as to thank him for taking care of his nephew while his Aunt would prepare tea. Oh ... and him, he would be in very serious trouble when the teacher would have left.<p>

Aunt Petunia would leave his Uncle to look after him. In the basement, probably, to stifle his screams. There, no one would hear him; no one would give a damn for what would take place there, not even his Aunt. Uncle Vernon would do what he wanted to him and no one would care. And Harry knew exactly what he wanted. Mechanically he rose and went to the desk to write his letter to the professor. He applied himself, knowing how the Potions Master loved a proper penmanship. It was his way of paying his last respects to him. To say thank you too, even if he had trouble finding the words. It was limited to a minimum. Communicating has never been easy to him, the words always seemed to escape him when trying to reach out to others. This time was no exception. He tested the windows to open them but didn't succeed in unlocking them. The Potions Master had probably close them magically. He tried to break them but nothing worked. There was only one possibility left. Undeterred, he went to the bathroom. He had something to do.

The only thing he had to.

**oO°Oo**

"I will not return there"

Those were the words that he repeated to himself like a mantra, to support his determination. Not with Uncle Vernon, not with was awaiting him. Not while knowing what would happen. He carefully closed and locked the door of the bathroom. It was the only solution. He fumbled, having failed to identify the whereabouts of his glasses - they were not on the bedside table - his vision was really blurred now that the spell had ceased to act. He looked for a moment in the drawers, making as little noise as possible and got out, with his shaking hands, a razor blade. This is not how he had envisioned it but he had no other ideas or resources at hand. The professor was really a very conscientious man.

He had not find medicines or potions that could have facilitated his "departure". He swallowed with difficulty. The blade gleamed under the moon light that could get through the small window that gave him full view of the garden and the edge of the rocks along the sea coast. Too bad, he would have liked to see it a bit better. He had never been that close to the sea. He curled up against the toilet at the back of the room, against the wall. He was afraid. When he plunged into the Thames, it was different. As he couldn't swim and were familiar with the water effects, he had nothing to do except let himself sink into the dark waters ... but now… was it going to hurt? Yes, certainly. Probably much more than when he had cut his arm with the hedge trimmer back then at Privet Drive.

Would it be long?

He was hot. He was cold. He was afraid.

He rolled up his sleeves with caution - the arm that had held Draco was still stinging - and spent the blade above his wrist. He gashed the skin a little, grimacing as the pain spread. It was so hard. And then the words of his uncle returned to his memory, as clear as they were two weeks ago. And the feeling of the greasy hands, so odious on his skin. He remembered what they had done. How their touch had soiled him. And what might have happened. Of what would happen if he ever returned. Nothing would prevent it to happen that time, he couldn't do nothing to defend himself. He felt his determination strengthened and accentuated the pressure of the razor against his flesh. Deeply this time. His hand trembled, but he did not stop until he made a large gash in the lengthwise while violently biting his lip to keep himself from crying. Being used to pain was useful sometimes.

The metallic taste of his own blood in his mouth consolidated his will. It was time to end it. There was no going back. He took him all of his courage to get the blade in his other hand, trying to keep from falling the somehow sticky blade that was escaping from his grip. He grabbed a handful of toilet paper to help and began to repeat his work on his other wrist. He grabbed a washcloth nearby to force himself to remain silent, to retain his cries and groans. The pain went well beyond what he had imagined and the tears were flowing profusely down his face, almost blinding, but once he had finished, he felt strangely comforted if a little sorry, too. But the prevailing sentiment was mostly relief.

It was done.

He felt his body becoming heavy and the torpor took place. It was not that hard, finally, to die, he lazily thought. It was good to let it go for once. His eyes were dimmed by the tears and he found it strangely comforting not having his glasses on his nose while he was proceeding. And no one would ever force him to return to the Dursleys now. He hoped that the professor would forgive him but after all, it's not as if he cared about him anyway. He meant only trouble for him. Finally, that would solve everything.

Maybe it would help him to make peace with the Malfoys, who knows? His paling face reflected a slight smile without his knowledge. Yes, everything would be fine now. He would finally meet his mum and dad. His Aunt and Uncle always said bad things about them but he was sure, deep down, that they, at least, had loved him. He knew they died to protect him so they should have loved him, right? The professor did not like his father but it did not mean that the man was a bad one, right? No. He was sure that he was nice and that he would love him. And so would his mum. Because… that's what parents do. Right?

And just for that, it was worth it.

* * *

><p>So... That is it.<p>

It's pretty hard but it will get better... eventually.

**Thanks for reading.**


	6. Decisions

Hi!

First, I would like to thank the 121 people that are following this story, the 45's that have put it in their favorites ones but, here, I really want to thank all the people that could overcome the commonly held review phobia disease (lol!) to let me know, in one or more words, what they think of this story, adding ink to my quill and encouraging me to go to work.

**THANK YOU ALL!**

Now, back to the story!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

**Decisions**

* * *

><p>His son was afraid of him. He had seen it while he was stunned. Draco was afraid of him and of what he had done. He had believed that he had done what needed to be done. To give this Half-Blood the lesson he deserved. These eyes... they were the ones of a child who was afraid of his own father. Carrying Draco in his arms for the first time when he was just a new-born child, he had sworn to himself that he wouldn't be like Abraxas. He had never loved of even liked his father, he had feared him just like he had always feared and dreaded every holiday he had to return to the Manor and his father's lessons. Panic-stricken of ending up like Ambrosius if he was unfortunate enough to displease his father. Fear of not being up to par. He did not want this for Draco. He had failed. Moreover, he had disappointed Narcissa. She had taken Draco in his arms and had gone, without looking back. She had then refused to see him all day. And she had forbidden him to see Draco also. He had then chosen to lock himself in his office, going over and over the same scene, his brain trying to get some sense to what he had done, a bottle of firewhiskey (whose level was lowered dramatically as time passed) as his only company.<p>

Lucius knew that he was not, what might be called a "good" man, even if he gave every appearance to be in public and his family prouded itself of presiding over numerous charities. He just loved dark magic; he loved the thrill that accompanied it when he communed with it and collected various items in order to honor the old ways. And serving the Dark Lord had always seemed obvious. You could not leave mudbloods or even halfbloods denied the legacy that was theirs back to the foundations of their society and just decide what was or was not magic, based on their uneducated and biased prejudices when they could not understand what was magic. It was them, the purebloods, the great circle of families which had enabled the magical world to survive. The power was their due. Obviously, they had to get the message through violence to be heard but every revolution has a phase of violence after all. But he never would have thought that one day he would go so far.

Too far.

Kill a child because it was war was one thing. Tortured a child under a mad impulse was another. Kill had never been a problem to him nor had there ever been regret. He had done what he had meant to and that was it. However, he had always been quick to finish off children, even muggle children and he never liked it. Never. But back there, he did not even hesitate or think about it before doing it. He had not even chosen to use a punishing spell but the Cruciatus, no less. It was low, even for him. Especially when it was not justified. What Draco wanted was avoiding being scolded for flying alone and without permission. Evan, the protégé that Severus had given him to care for, for whom he had been trusted with, had been tortured by the most vicious of the spells because he hadn't listened. Because he had not even bothered to listen. Would it have stopped him? He was afraid of the answer. Had he really fallen so low?

Severus. The way his friend had looked at him...

Severus was jumped awake from an annoying screeching sound. He searched in his fogged and tired brain what had caused the pandemonium when he realized that he had set alarms on the boy and that they were now off which could only meant that the boy was awake and apparently out of bed. Resigned, he decided to get up. He crossed the corridor while grumbling against the early hours when he found that the sun had scarcely risen. He had slipped on a dressing gown while trying to clear his brain from his slumbered state. He quickly came to the room where he had lodged the boy. The bed was empty. It was surprising; with the amount of potions he had made the child swallow that he would already be awake. He frowned. The wards were still in place, the boy could only be in the bathroom. He knocked on the bathroom door. No answer. The door was locked. Annoyed by the boy's lack of common sense, he used the Alohomora and went in, annoyed by the fact that the boy had probably fallen asleep on the toilet, knocked down by the potions.

His face went from annoyance to amazement and then to pure fright.

The boy stood in a corner of the bathroom, pale and motionless. In a pool of blood. Of his blood. He rushed and mumbled quickly two "episkey" to close the wrists wound before grabbing the body - so cold, too cold – of the child to bring him back to the room, knocking the chair near the bed out of his passage. He put him on the bed for a moment before urging – actually yelling – a house-elf to bring him his emergency kit. He quickly got a blood replenishing potion while using his all of his Occlumency's faculties to undress the child. Effectiveness, imperturbability, that was the key. He would think back about the situation after saving the Savior.

He removed the child's shirt and froze.

It just... wasn't possible. He could not have missed it. While he wasn't officially a Healer, he had spent two years in an internal ship at St. Mungo's after leaving Hogwarts and had the knowledge for healing. He would have seen it. He should have seen it. His gestures became gentler to finish undressing the boy. His mind, meanwhile, kept to crosscheck many details and facts. The size of the child, Narcissa's comments, the lack of appetite, how the child – something he had found infuriating – used to walk slowly economizing his movements, carefully avoiding being physically close to anyone (apart from yesterday but that was due to exhaustion and potions), his silence ... As Head of House, he was frequently confronted with cases of abuse, whether it being in his house or elsewhere, although the majority were Slytherin so he should have known.

But he did not want to see.

Because it was Potter. Because it was the spawn of James Potter, the survivor to whom he had lost Lily. The one who had stolen the life in her eyes. He had not seen the child or wished to know him. A child that was too quiet, with his piercing eyes, who never contradicted his orders, who had sat with him for hours in his lab and did not bother telling him about his day. Finally, it was as if the child had never even been there. He knew nothing about him, about his life. And now he was certain the child had lied to him. In what proportion, it remained to be determined.

He casted a diagnosis spell but not a specialized diagnostic as he had done so far, but a complete diagnosis, such as would have done Poppy. The hairs of the back of his neck at the results bristled and he felt a cold shiver passing over his spine. How the boy had managed to withhold the state he was in? He had a dislocated shoulder (probably due to the incident with Draco), a broken rib and two others were cracked. He gnashed his teeth when discovering the state of the child's back and legs which were streaked with belt (he assumed) gashes of white for the oldest, to angry red for the most recent, theses ones being still swollen. Some seemed infected and many others had healed badly. And that was besides the bones badly healed, deficiencies in vitamins and minerals and the alarming level of malnutrition. For now, he had to ignore his feelings. It woudn't help the child. He asked one of his elves to bring him his complete healer set.

He was going to need to work for a while.

After finishing healing the boy, he noticed something on the desktop. A white envelope. The sight cut off his breath. He grabbed it before starting to walk to and fro in the room. Finally, he lifted the chair he had overturned and reinstated it by the bed before he finally sit down. He checked again the boy's constant, delaying as much as possible the opening of the letter. He did not know what was inside. Probably words of hatred, against him, against the way he, the adult, had treated him. He had spent two weeks in forcing a child who was not even nine to study constantly, to be constantly monitored, to be as unobtrusive as possible and finally, thanks to his so fabulous idea to entrust the boy to the care of the Dark Lord's right hand, to be tortured. Tortured when he already had to experience more than his share of abuse. He certainly could not blame him.

Nevertheless, the letter remained before his eyes, unopened.

Gathering his will, he finally broke the seal. What was in there might help him heal the kid and see things more clearly. For there was the question that kept running through his head since he had finished his work: Now what? There were others of course but he did not feel ready to deal on, he needed to sort out but not now. Now he had a letter to read. He would take care of the rest later. He unfolded the parchment, surprised to find a clean writing and applied even if a little shaky. This was not written with a quill as the boy did not know how to use it but he had used one of his old fountain pen that mimicked fairly well the effect of a real quill. He began to read. It was very short anyway.

_I apologize for the trouble I have caused you._

_Thank you for everything you did._

_I had to do it before you brought me back._

_Sorry._

Severus lowered the letter, bewildered. He expected many things but certainly not that. The child begged for forgiveness. As if he did not understand how Severus and Lucius had treated him was nothing but normal. That it was not his fault. Obviously he could not understand that, Severus scolded himself. The boy had been abused for years. Besides the treatment endured, these two weeks should have seemed a holiday in paradise to him. However, this also meant serious psychological trauma to think he deserved the Cruciatus. Suddenly he thought of the day they had met in the park. Back then, he had just thought the kid had slipped of the wall but... what if ... what if, in reality, the kid had voluntarily jumped? He thought all occasions where the kid could have getting hurt during the last fortnight. Actually, no. He had not let go the child out of his sight except when he was at school, and Mrs. Macfarlane was too conscientious to not monitor closely the children whom had been entrusted into her care.

But the letter also denoted a determination that made him shudder and he did not doubt that the kid would make a new attempt at the first opportunity. He could not leave things as they were and he needed to have a better understanding of the situation. That he, who had only spent two weeks with the kid might have missed Potter's abuse was one thing but what about the neighbors, the school staff, the Child Service staff and the person charged by Albus to monitor the kid? This could not have remained unnoticed. What to do? With the extra potions in his system, the child should sleep for at least two hours. He asked an elf to stay at the bedside of the wounded child and warn him should the slightest sign of alarm happened. He took his jacket and went out. He was not satisfied with what he had discovered today. He wanted more answers.

And he knew where to find them.

**oO°Oo**

Arabella Figg was an Order member whom he had paid little attention at the time but he still had retained that she had been the one appointed to "look after" the Savior. He had taken care to note her address in his mind. He daily thanked his Occlumency faculties for this. Even years after, having thousands of archived memories proved to be damn useful. He had been surprised at first that Potter's supervision had been left to a squib but, after all, her cats were half-kneazles which enable her to have a remote and effective monitoring without being heavy or visible as Dumbledore had wished for it to be. For the kid to keep growing up without having the pressure of his "media status" on his shoulders. It had made sense at the time, Severus thought as it would probably be best to avoid Potter Junior the same arrogance and self importance that was the trade mark of his father ...

He apparated at the corner of Wisteria Walk, in the shadow of a garden, and thanked his common sense to have thought about wearing muggle clothes although some neighbors watched him with suspicion in this late morning. He was sure he clashed in this posh neighborhood with his dark and austere appearance. He looked with disgust the house overwhelmed with cats everywhere and forced himself to knock at the front door. Moments later, a small hail woman, in a old dressing gown and slippers, opened the door. The face she made when recognizing him was priceless and he easily took the opportunity to enter the house, turning up his nose at the cumbersome smell of cabbage invading the shack.

Recovering from her surprise, the cats' lady joined him in the living room where her guest, who had categorically refused to sit on the couch full of cat hairs, stood before the window.

" Oh! Hello, Professor Snape! What brings you here?" She asked, intrigued.

"I'm here on the request of Albus to have news on Potter"; he lied with a sniff of disdain quite noticeable.

He decided to ask her questions while avoiding every possible implication related to the real motive of his visit. A small memory charm should be enough to erase his coming of Mrs Figg mind.

"Oh! Little Harry is fine. He was on vacation with his family", Mrs. Figg explained. "They just came back, I think".

"Really? Albus asked me to bring him the latest data on Potter, but if there is nothing new ..." he walked away, waiting for the likely reaction of his hostess.

"Well, Professor Snape, I have much to tell about the little one and I'm so glad to see how Albus cares about the boy", she said while holding his arm to keep him from leaving.

"I'm listening", he said, falsely resigned, grumbling a little against the inevitable capillary feline effects which would cling to his clothes despite his being careful.

The interview unfolded calmly, Mrs. Figg explaining that Harry was a very helpful and nice child if just a little silent and shy. He loved playing with his cousin Dudley she told him as they regularly could be seen playing hide and seek in the neighborhood. He asked some more questions, mainly about the family but apart from the fact that the aunt was not much affectionate toward the boy and that his uncle did not seem to really enjoy the boy's presence (which could be easily explained since they were a little forced to take the boy in she explained to Severus disbelief). The Dursleys had been forced to accept the kid under their roof? However, nothing in the speech of the old woman tended to accept the hypothesis of abuse. Yet something was wrong. His instinct was screaming that something was off. By listening Mrs. Figg as she spoke, he felt like some kind of censorship was on, keeping her from noticing suspicious or unusual occurrences around the child. It was subtle but it was definitely there. But he had to be certain. He changed his tactics:

"He is quite small for his age it seems", he said suddenly. Mrs. Figg looked up from his tea before kindly answering:

"That's true but some children are late bloomers", she replied evasively.

"I heard he had a lot of bruises of a suspicious nature"; he went on, waiting to see how she would react. Her gaze seemed to get anxious before her face lights up.

"Children are unruly you know, they don't stop fighting", she stated, smiling. "You should not believe such rumors", she admonished. "It almost went wrong at the child school three years ago, because of that", she said, on a confidential tone.

"Really?" He blankly stated, not showing his interest.

"Yes, I also spoke to Albus immediately when I got my Mistigri's report who was watching the little one there".

"But what could he do?" Severus asked, unfazed.

"Oh! I'm not sure about what he did but he clarified the situation. We could not let the child be deprived of the blood protection for some unfounded accusations", she exposed to one increasingly suspicious Severus.

"How can you be so sure?" He cautiously asked.

"Albus told me. He knows his stuff ... He would have done something if it was true, of course. But there wasn't any reason for this. Harry is happy there and the Dursleys loved him, that's obvious. Albus told me. He comes to visit me regularly to have news about Harry and he always brings me tea", she confided as if everything was explained by these simple words.

And perhaps that was the case.

He stunned Mrs. Figg by a quick wand movement, holding her cup of tea act to prevent it from spilling. He took advantage of the sleep induced state of the old lady to cast a diagnosis spell to identify what he suspected to be altered and enhanced perceptions of artificial sense of loyalty through the tea. He knew the formula for having invented it when he was a Death Eater. It was so light and induces only a change of behavior so subtle that it was almost undetectable. Handy for a paranoid Dark Lord to ensure the loyalty of his pawns. He had shared this with Albus as he had with all of his information about the Dark Lord activities when he first joined the Order. He summoned a house elf to bring him his notes and, possibly, the antidote. It wasn't normal that Mrs Figg sought Albus opinion about the boy's well-being when she was the one in charge of watching him.

When he was serving the Lord, he had developed such paranoia about the possibility that his free will might be removed that he regularly brewed potions to detect such issues. Even today, he did a self-diagnosis and drunk the adequate potions at least once a month to ensure that his will remained still. Of course, Mrs. Figg had no such luxury. As a squib, she could not even make the simplest detection spells and there was no chance that she could afford such potions. Moreover, the effects of such potions were much stronger on a muggle or a squib than for a witch or wizard and therefore more difficult to eradicate. He was afraid to see the results, almost hoping that his intuition was wrong and that Mrs. Figg was just careless because in either case ... He was in deep trouble.

The test was positive.

Shit.

**oO°Oo**

He was thinking, at full speed. He could not use a memory charm as he previously thought. Albus would know. He chose first of all to clear his coming from Mrs Figg' memory but not by the common use of a spell but with the help of a potion. A wit-disturbing potion. The main advantage was that it induced severe fatigue and forgetfulness of the last full hour, so her last memory would stop before the arrival of Severus while producing the classical symptoms of a bad case of flu which would compel her to stay in bed for the next two days, while probably thinking that her memory loss was due to her being ill while falling asleep on her chair. The half-kneazles would not be a problem; a collective confusion spell on the tomcats would take care of that. Now that his hostess was asleep, he could begin to consider the situation calmly.

As a bearer of the Dark Mark, he couldn't approach Privet Drive without automatically alerting the wards, he knew it. However, he wanted to have a little and very friendly "chat" with the Dursleys. However, there were other ways to observe from a distance without being noticed. Disillusioned, he went up the street to number four, Privet Drive before stopping at a respectable distance of the wards, as he had two weeks ago, a half-kneazle in his arms which would serve him as a spy. Too bad he had to deal with the beast's hairs. The latter was disillusioned and Severus had cast a compulsion spell on the fury ball to come in and observe the Dursleys unnoticed before returning to him to give his report. The animals' limited intelligence, even the magical ones, couldn't understand more precise directions. He waited for what seemed a long time, worried that Harry could wake up at any moment during his absence.

Finally, the fury beast came out and joined him outside the house. He took care of it taking the observation's crystal memories before returning to him with a statement about the Dursleys in their natural state. Then he apparated. He came by his office to store the memory in his pensive to watch it. He wanted to know exactly what he was dealing with. He plunged into the feline memories, a little bewildered by the strikingly different vision of the animal, which needed some adjustment at the beginning:

_The investigation started by the __extremely well cared __Dursleys' garden even though the grass seemed to need a trimming, some leaves were lying around on the lawn and a few weeds were starting to get a place in the flowerbeds. The half-kneazle crept up to the window ajar and went down the cellar gracefully on the various boxes and bulky before climbing the stairs. Severus followed him, not bothered by the physical constraints of the memory and went into the kitchen. The flea bag hid under the table, witnessing the conversations that took place between Mr. and Mrs. Dursleys. Time had really not improved Petunia. She had that horsey air and that pout of disdain she already wore as a child. The man, he, immediately attracted attention for his impressive size. He was – at least – three times Severus' size. He concentrated on the conversation._

_"And you say he's gone like that, for no reason?" Petunia dubiously asked._

_"That's what I'm telling you!" Dursleys' father protested a drink in hand._

_"Well, I guess he'll come back when he'll have enough", Petunia dismissed, frowning. "Still, look at that dust! Not to mention the state of the garden! He won't get away with it!" Petunia angrily said while passing the finger on the edge of the shelf._

_"Oh, don't worry dear", her obese husband kindly reassured her, "I'll take care of his case... personally"._

_There was a gleam in the man's eye that Severus, without being able to interpret it, found deeply unpleasant and even unhealthy but he could not pursue this sensation as a miniature replica of a whale had just made its entry loudly:_

_"Mom! I wanna chips!"_

_"My precious Diddykin", Petunia began with a motherly smile (an atrocious thing if it ever was one Severus thought) before being interrupted abruptly._

_"Now! My TV show will begin!" Whined the "Diddykin"(or mini-walrus if Severus had a choice)._

_"I understand my Dinky Diddydums but had you done your homework?" Petunia weakly tried to negotiate without much conviction._

_"The freak should help me to do them", the boy replied, bored and on the edge of one of his famous Diddy's tantrum, his teary eyes preparing for it. "Give me my chips! I'm starved!"_

_Severus watched, appalled, the hasty exit of a package off the closet while the father proudly patted the head of his offspring before going out into the driveway to park his car in the garage, followed closely by the cat. The memory stopped there._

Yielding to his desire, he went to the minibar and pulled out a bottle of pure firewiskhey in order to have a large swig and swallow it in stride. This really was Potter's relatives with whom he had grown up with? "Not really affectionate" had said Mrs. Figg. It was as far from the truth as the North Pole was from the South one. The child entrusted in their care had disappeared and, instead of immediately alerting the police or even worrying, they simply went on with their life, as if nothing had happened. Nothing, not a single ounce of concern. Just regret over dust and weeds in the garden ... Why? They couldn't have been fine with leaving the child alone and unattended while they were on holidays, with only chores to do, right? It would be completely irresponsible. Nevertheless, given what he had observed, it did not seem so much surprising now.

He knew more than he had intended or needed to.

**oO°Oo**

He put his now empty glass and went back into Harry's room. The boy was still asleep, probably not for long. He looked at the pale complexion of the child; the trembling had stopped, fortunately. The diagnosis confirmed that there would have no lasting damage related to the Cruciatus. There was one last thing to do, the more painful to Severus' opinion. He had to know the complete boy's medical history. He conjured a parchment scroll, hoping that its length wouldn't be as long as he was afraid it would be and began the process. First, the bone structure, epidermal and nerves damage, then the state of internal organs, followed by the evolution of the weight curve and child growth (compared to a normalized curve) and ending by the child immune system's insufficiencies and deficiencies. Time passed and the parchment continued to unfold, making Severus nauseous. Finally, the spell ended, having served its purpose. He cautiously took the beginning of the parchment and read it through.

Unsurprisingly, many broken bones, fractures badly healed, weak muscles and a stomach shrunk to the point where the boy couldn't bear a regular meal without risking rejection. And he thought the child had a bird's appetite and was being difficult ... The good news however, indicated that the vitamins and minerals deficiencies, though present, had not reached a too severe level to be processed by conventional remedial potions. Notably, the iron level was inadequate but not as scary as one might have imagined. The level of A vitamin could also explained the boy low vision. Whether or not it was irreversible, it would depend on the child response to the treatment. As for psychological damage, he had some idea brought by his own experience. But that does not help him much with his current issue. A sizable one at that.

Albus Dumbledore.

When he first learned of Lily's death, he had to admit that the fate of her baby didn't much concern him. Five days later, at the last official meeting of the Order in which they had just heard of the arrest of one Sirius Black for betraying the Potter, Albus had confirmed rumors that he had decided to place the child with his own living relatives, to avoid the Ministry greedy grip on the orphan and to guarantee him a normal childhood, away from the tumult caused by the fall of the Dark Lord. It seemed like a wise decision to everyone, especially with the addition of a squib supervisor, as attuned to the muggle world as the magical one, in the environment of the young Lord Potter. And then, Albus had been officially appointed as the magical guardian of Harry Potter.

No one had confronted the great Albus Dumbledore about that.

He was the great Albus Dumbledore after all.

Yet, he hadn't been that close to the Potters and no one knew what was in the Potters' will.

No one had bothered to. They just accepted Dumbledore as the Savior's magical guardian and left it at that.

Except ... Harry had obviously had no contacts with the magical world or any knowledge of it since he was a fifteenth months old child or he would not have been as ignorant. And there was this story at the boy's school. It was worth some digging. But what really intrigued (and disturbed) him was that the headmaster obviously knew or at minimum suspected the abuse suffered by Harry and had deliberately ignored it. Worse than that, he even willingly helped its hiding. But why? It kept escaping his logical mind. His eyes fall on the wardrobe and suddenly he decided have a look at the clothes the boy had worn upon his arrival. He opened the closet and took out the boy's worn rags. He had assumed that the kid had his clothes in this state because he was careless but had to admit having been disturbed when confronting with the gratitude look when he had given him some of his own childhood clothes. The very ones that weren't new, having already been second-hand at the time and dyed black by his mother to hide their faults and state.

Yet, they were sadly much better than the boy's rags.

What should he do now? He could not let him go back there, he was sure the boy would succeed in his next attempt (And he wasn't even nine, for Merlin's sake!) without him there to stop him/ And he had some idea about the welcome back the Durlseys had in store for him. But to not bring the brat back would mean alerting Albus and the Ministry for the disappearance of the Savior which would cause too much noisy noses putting in his business. Questions he couldn't afford. They would ask relentlessly who had seen what and whom in the neighborhood, and as he would have probably been noticed, he would be quickly discovered. But Merlin's balls! Why Albus was doing this? Harry was the Hope of the Light (as ridiculous as this name was, it was true), the Savior, the one who had destroyed Voldemort (at least in the minds of the fools believing the preaching of the Ministry and Dumbledore) . Why place and, more importantly, keep the boy in an abusive family?

It did not make sense.

Lily and James were the Albus' Gryffindors favorites and faithfuls ones , not Death Eaters. Why? The Blood Protection Ward? Lily's sacrifice. A justifiable option to protect children Death Eaters still at large after the disappearance of the Dark Lord, it was appropriate. But after? A wizarding child raised outside of their world could face serious difficulties when learning magic in an inhospitable environment for the child's gift development. Because the magic was reacting in tune with its environment for its development. Especially when the latent power was important, as was the case of Potter. This could trigger intense accidental magic and abnormal and erratic growth of the magical core which had been proven dangerous.

Coldly and objectively, as it was proved by Healer Heison in the 40's, living in an "hostile" environment tended to abnormally develop children's magical core which induced two types of outcomes: either the magic turned against the child and could kill him/her up (or leave him/her as a squib) or, it could induced a magical power that far exceeded the rank expected under normal conditions. The problem is that the magic thus obtained was more difficult to control and better reacted to powerful spells submitting the child to a risk of being more attracted to the ensnaring power of Dark Magic than the comparatively insipid taste of the Light one, simply by affinity.

Albus was fully aware of Heison's discoveries. He mentioned them himself when they had discussed the strength of Tom Riddle for which the Headmaster then revealed some fragments of the past of one Dark Lord. Severus himself was a wizard more powerful than the average, this state being probably correlated with his childhood and adolescence in an abusive family. They had also mentioned these facts and this is the moment that Severus had hoped that the director would apologize to him for letting him grow in there despite Madam Pomfrey's warnings. But the excuses never came. Of course, he had thought that his own denials related to his fear of discovery had probably sealed his fate and that he was responsible for refusing to talk and confide at the time but he would have liked Albus to tell him something. Anything rather than dwell on the extraordinary magical development of Tom Riddle.

Of course, he had said to himslef that it was all in the past and that he could not go back on it but it had remained stuck in his throat. Albus was his mentor, his protector. He had felt a little abandoned and hurt by this indifference, but as usual, he had ignored the feelings. It was of no use to feel sorry for what might have been. Albus owed him nothing. It was he that owed the old wizard everything. His freedom, the possibility of redemption, to lead a new life. Only now... it was about Har-Potter. This could not be. It made no sense. He had to be wrong, he thought, trying to believe it himself. This could not be worth risking the boy's mental and physical health, he tried to reason. Not to mention the subsequent risk that the boy could go "wrong". It was something else. It should be. Surely there was something else. A better explanation he wasn't aware of.

It must be.

And why keep the boy away from his legacy? Harry had to be prepared for his return to the magical world. He was the Potter Lord and was regarded as the Savior of the Wizarding World. Even when not considering his role in the demise of the Dark Lord, there was still the Lord Potter title he had to take. He was expected to fulfill a certain image, a certain posture. Albus certainly couldn't consider letting the boy return to the Magical world in utter and complete ignorance, it would be ridiculous. The kid would been lost and scared. He would learn of his past and fame at once, everything falling over for him to drown in without proper guidance. What would be the interest in that? A child raised in the ignorance of magic, accustomed to conceal his pain, trying desesperately to fit in, with only one desire, to be accepted by someone, anyone... The shock of the sudden revelation made him drop the stuff he still held. It was not possible, he was mistaken. He was wrong. The Headmaster of Hogwarts was a good man, full of compassion. He offered comfort and protection to Severus, he would never ...

Never ... put the interests of the wizarding world before the ones of an innocent child.

**oO°Oo**

Albus Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and other distinctions had got his designs on the likely return of Voldemort before the welfare of a child. A child whom, upon his arrival at Hogwarts, would be looking for love and affection in this new world full of promises and wonders. A child that would naturally attach himself to the one person responsible for giving him the opportunity to leave his relatives, who would save him from the Dursleys. A person like the Headmaster whom could use it to his advantage for his purposes. It would induce a devoted and eternally grateful child, blind to anything else but the word of the Headmaster. A nice and dedicated little puppet. A perfect little Gryffindor, very docile, not putting anything into question. A child he could shape, mold and then make him confront his destiny when the time would have come. Presenting it as his duty, the sacrifice of one for the Greater Good. And the child would acquiesce to this idea to save the Magical World, so willing to do anything to deserve to be loved and get crumbs of affection that he would have the feeling of finally having a reason to exist... To be useful as it would be his duty, he being the only one to fulfill the Prophecy. Or so would probably say the Headmaster. Perhaps had he even already chosen the boy's future relationships...

He was flabbergasted. It was ... he had no words to describe the feeling it gave him.

He would never have expected such a thing from Dumbledore and he would have been the first to defend his mentor if such accusations were leveled at him. Albus, that was the sherbet lemons, the candies passwords, the weird start-of-term welcoming feast speech, the reassuring arms at Lily's death... Not this! Yet he knew the man skilled in the field of manipulation. Albus was a warlord, a powerful being, a genius and as such, although it was rarely displayed under his grandfatherly mask, it was underlying. Severus knew that the man bore the burden of plenty of painful but necessary decisions. And apparently, this very decision toward the boy had been deemed "necessary". Yet, he had heard some rumors about the man's past and his relationship with the Dark Lord Grindelwald saying that he had once been corrupted by power and dark magic, but he had never paid them any attention.

He probably should have.

Feverishly, he went over in his mind of all the times when he and the old man had talked, painfully aware of the idea that the trust he had put in the Headmaster and the confidences he had shared could have been calculated and controlled moves was unbearable. He had trusted him, for Merlin's sake! It wasn't an insignificant fact for him, he didn't trust many people in his life. Was he also just a pawn to be used in the old man's schemes? Yes, probably, but even as he recognized and accepted it he had thought that maybe, just maybe that the Headmaster had some kind of respect and affection toward him. Was it his penance for Lily's death?For all the blood his hands were covered in? Was what he thought to be a hard-won affection from the old fool a complete simulation to keep his spy? He did not want to believe it. But he was an adult, not a child and he had chosen this life. He knew that even if the Headmaster's feeling were false and that even if he was manipulated, he would be hurt but he would continue to work under the man's orders and accept the truth. He deserved this after all, he just knew it.

That was not the case for Potter.

Getting his composure back, he returned to the original problem. He, he was of no importance. It was impossible to deliver the kid to Albus in this conditions. Even when assuming that the Heamaster has underestimated the degree of abuse. He had vowed to protect Lily's son. But how he was going to do it? It was not as if it was an anonymous orphan, it was Harry Potter, for Salazar's sake! It was impossible to assign the boy to the care of a wizarding foster family, Albus would oppose and get the boy directly to his relative whom, even if they were lecturing (which he strongly doubted) to avoid a so much "rude" treatment to the Savior (who would have been conveniently obliviated), would continue to not take care of the child. As for his position, if Albus ever discovered who exactly removed the boy from his relatives and had thwarted his carefully laid plans... Would he be sacrificed? Severus was not sure he wanted to know the answer.

What to do now?

He reviewed all the possibilities opened to him. None were really satisfactory but he had promised to Lily. Even if the thing promised was not to his taste, far from it in fact, he would do it. He would resign himslef to do it. He would keep the child safe and he would provide him what he needed. He could not go further in his reflection as he felt the child awakening due to the alarms he had placed on him.

* * *

><p>Was he in Heaven? It was strange. He had not really listened to sermons in catechism classes at school, but he still had retained some concepts. Was hurt normal in Heaven? No, from what he knew, the answer was no. He felt pain even though it seemed distant and diffuse. So where was he? In Hell? He didn't think about it before but was he going to Hell because of his suicide? Would he not see his father and his mother, then? Had he done it for nothing? He opened his eyes, wanting to know, not daring to imagine having endured all this for naught. Immediately, he recognized, after focusing as much as he could without his glasses, the heavy hangings of his bed and then,the professor's eyes, fixed on him. This meant one thing: he had failed. He tried to read those deep eyes. The professor was not someone whom was easy to decipher but he was more expressive than he probably thought.<p>

There was a lot of emotion in what he saw. Anxiety, anger and... determination. He did not know how to react to this. Clenched his fists, he deliberately closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. He would say nothing and had nothing to say. He did not care for the Potions Master's pity. He was angry to have been saved. He had no right to do that. It was his choice. The man seemed to understand what he was feeling as he felt a weight settle on the edge of the bed. A hand landed on his face and he could not do otherwise but open his eyes and try to escape. A powerful arm, stronger than his own, held him, he began to scream. The pressure did not decrease, and it was nice and gentle, almost careful to not hurt him as he was fighting to free himself. Realising that he couldn't win, he finally stop struggling in the arms of the Potions Master, trembling. He was afraid. He was ill and he did not know what to do to get by.

What was going to happen to him now?

* * *

><p>He acted without really knowing why. To reassure the child? How the boy had jumped and fought against his touch reminded him of the way even today he, himself, had a hard time to bear the slightest touch without being warned and avoided physical contact as much as possible. There were reflexes which one could never get rid of. And this had helped to keep him isolated from his peers. He did not want that for Lily's child. He could not allow him to refuse the comfort provided by another human being, even if that other human was him and that he had no idea about how to do it. It was uncomfortable and awkward. Then he felt the child stop struggling, rigid in his arms. He could hear the frantic beating of the boy's heart against him. The child knew he was the stronger one, that he had no chance to escape. How to make him understand that he would not hurt him when everyone else had done it before?<p>

Relationships issues weren't his field. Really.

With his snakes he indulged in such emotional outbursts. They were his responsibility and pride. He was their benchmark, the one to whom they turned when they had a problem, whatever its nature. To the abuse suffered at home to the heart breaking tears going on through the traditional first years small spleen at the beginning of the year. For the most hurt, he would let them sleep in the guest room while he he would go visit the first and sometimes the second years at bedtime to reassure them as they were still young and needed to know that he would always been available to them if they needed it, at any time, day or night. He wasn't soft but he was far from the heartless bat of the dungeons he was protrayed as. He would attend the Slytherin Quidditch matches even if he wasn't interested in the sport itself just to show his support to his team. He personally congratulated the good students and encouraged the worse to do better, organizing study group and tutoring from the elder to the younger. He acted as a sort of parental figure and was well aware of the intense loyalty and relationships it had created between them.

But there it was Potter.

It was not the same.

It was just ... not the same.

**oO°Oo**

He decided to do what he did best: take the matter in own hands while confidently establishing clear benchmarks by positioning himself as the undisputed decision-maker.

"Mr Potter", he started firmly. "I'll let you go now and you will lie down. This is not debatable".

He released the kid as promised whom laid back slowly, without releasing his eyes from him. He took a strict but calm voice. He was no Hufflepuff. Pity and cuddling did not exist in his vocabulary. Yes, the child was a victim, but he would overcome it with time. He was a Potter, he would recover. The conditions of the current situation remained to be seen and he had to conclude a pact with the kid so all things would be taking care of at the best of his abilities.

"I'll tell you how things are going to happen from now on, Mr Potter", he started. "It is obvious that your relatives aren't... "adequate" to ensure your well-being".

The closed face of the boy did not escape him even if tremor had yet to ceased.

"There are some facts to consider in order to prevent your return and I'm ready to go beyond the law in honor of your mother, Potter", he painfully articulated while staring at the child's eyes. He was not a man whose will could bent before a child and before a Potter, never.

Curiosity overtook the fear in the eyes of the boy, to his great satisfaction. Well, at least the kid was strong enough not to be dominated by his fears. A good point for him.

"I promised to protect you, Potter, and as I do not know anyone else up to the task, it comes back to me ... alas", he went on without concealing what he thought of the idea. "Are you still following me there, Mr Potter?"

The child slightly nodded and he contented himself with it. The purpose of the speech was less to explain the plan he had formed than to test the ability of the kid to overcome past events by focusing on a project. A future.

"I'll have to... adopt you Mr. Potter. We will use the history that we have created for the Malfoys to cover our backs", he explained. "This is for a good reason ... some people (he winced inwardly at the thought of Albus) would force you to return to your relatives despite your "treatment " at their hands (the kid does not react to the fact nor did he deny anything) and the only way to prevent this is for you to assume a new identity".

The boy nodded again, still somewhat stunned but attentive.

"You now officially will become my son under the official name of Evan Severus James (he gritted teeth) Potter-Prince-Snape, abbreviated simply by Evan Snape. Do not worry, this is only for practical reasons, it won't take away your status or your Potter inheritance. This will just conceal your identity until you are old enough to claim it. It goes without saying that you will not reveal the truth to anyone, whatever the reason".

The child nodded again, this time more incredulous. The kid was either terrified of becoming his offspring (perspective that didn't held more appeal to him) or he had not yet grasped the full implications. He continued:

"As your guardian, I will state a number of rules and I expect you to follow them to the letter, this for your own sake and mine".

The boy's composure was blank once again. Welcome back among the living, Severus thought. The vulnerability he had shown so far had put him uncomfortable. He did not know how to respond to this kind of child thing. His snakes had some decorum and they were, well, not a Potter. They were back to familiar paths.

"Rule # 1: You no longer will put your life in danger. Your mother sacrificed herself for you to survive, it is not acceptable to sully her memory by trying to commit suicide, he said, deliberately crude.

Rule # 2: You will not lie. I can not stand lies and liars, Mr Potter, especially when it comes to me then I strongly recommend you to not provoke me.

Rule # 3: You will obey me, regardless of the order and whatever the time, should it seems fair or not to you. I always have a reason to do what I do and I do not want to discuss my decisions with you.

Rule # 4: I need to know where you are, with whom and what you are doing at any moment, for security reasons, given what had currently happened. You inform me before doing anything, going anywhere and I will give you my consent ... or not, he insisted.

Rule # 5: You will move into the room that is in front of mine and we will take care of your wardrobe, and also your health since your stay is brought to ... extend. In return, I expect from you that you keep your room neat and tidy.

Rule # 6: You will study with a private tutor at Hogwarts, the institution where I teach, and I demand that you'd be punctual, respectful and applied in your studies. I will not tolerate sloppy work or laziness.

Rule # 7: This is the most important so write it well. In case of disobedience, you will be assigned to clean the cauldrons of my private lab or of the classroom by hand, to prepare ingredients for future potions, to clean the floor with a teeth brush or to write an essay on the consequences of said disobedience. Never, mark my words, will I raise my hand to you to punish you, I want this to be clear in your mind even if I am aware that it will take time before you actually believe it."

He chose to finish his speech by breaching the subject of the Dursleys:

"I have a pretty good idea of what happened to you at the Dursleys - the boy looked away - and I won't force the story out of you but I want you to know that I will be at your disposal if you so wish", he added grudgingly, secretly hoping not to have to listen the poor sobbing story of one Potter boy. The boy wasn't the first nor the last to have been abused and if he felt compelled to take the boy in, it had nothing to do with caring for the boy. He wasn't a charity case. "Do you have questions?"

"You must really have loved my mother for wanting to keep this promise eight years after her death", the child softly said.

He was certain that the boy wanted his limits and wanted to know what he exposed himself by putting it in anger. Of all the question he could have ask, he had to choose this one? Of course he had. Potter always knew where to hit to hurt him. He would not go into this game with his spawn.

"Yes", he replied calmly. "Any other questions?"

The child hesitated before shaking his head negatively.

"No, sir".

"In public, you will call me "father" (he grimaced at the thought)", he corrected. "You can be dispensed when in private. I have to make preparations for the adoption ritual and we will proceed at the earliest. If you have any objections, it is now."

The boy hesitated for a moment before starting:

"This means that I will never go back to the Dursleys?" He said, keeping his expression neutral.

"No. No as long as I live and unless you reveal this little secret on you own", he dryly confirmed.

"I wouldn't do it", the boy solemnly promised .

"I can confirm it", he assured. "We will swear a wizard oath to ensure the security of this information. I will explain this in detail later", he dismissively explained, rejecting any question about it for now. "Now, I want you to swallow the potions that will be given with the meal that will be served. Then I want you to rest and stay in bed. An elf will stay with you in case of need (and to watch the boy Severus mentally added)".

He got up and left.

He still had work to do.

* * *

><p>Anger.<p>

Rage.

Disappointment.

Sadness.

A burden, that was what he was. Listening to the speech so well worked of the professor whom exposed his plans about his adoption and life in general, that was the only thing he had thought. Burden. Unwanted. That was what he had always been for everyone and this time would be no exception it seemed. He was mortified. The teacher did not do this for him, but only for a souvenir. Of his mother. Not for him, never for him. And he knew that the teacher did not adopt him because he wanted it but only because he ran out of solution. He had not said why, not really (yet it was his life, right?). And he had not really been given a choice.

But what could he say anyway?

Certainly not no. He wouldn't throw away his chance of no return to the Durlseys. It was priceless. He had no one to return to, to confide in and he felt like he would be closely monitored to ensure that he no longer would attemp to end his life. He wouldn't anyway if the professor kept his promise. How ironic, he thought bitterly. It would be nice to live permanently in Prince Cottage, to have a room just for him (a real bed, finally), to get new clothes and someone who cared about his studies but... But all was ruined because it was all done by duty, obligation. It shouldn't bother him so much. He should be satisfied with this arrangement. So why does it hurt so much? Because he was an idiot. Silly and idealistic.

His one dream, one he had buried so desperately, but was realized he was not satisfied. He knew what he wanted and he hated himself for it. It was so pathetic. Weakness that he's yet to bury long ago. A family. It was so stupid. He had dreamed when he was little that someone would one day adopt, give him a family, the Dursleys tear. Because he would have chosen him among all others. Fool. The teacher could not give him what he wanted. He did not even give reason to exist, wanting to live a little longer. Everything was drowned in the practical details, but he did not care what him felt.

But what could he have said anyway?

Certainly not no. He wouldn't refuse the opportunity to not ever return to the Dursleys. He had no one to turn to, to confide in. And he felt that he would be closely monitored to ensure that he no longer would attempt to end his life. He knew the professor was a man of his word and that he would keep his promise. How ironic, he thought bitterly. It would be nice to stay permanently at Prince Cottage, to have a room alone just for him (with a real bed), to get new clothes that fit and someone who cared about his studies but... But all was ruined because it was all done by duty, obligation. He should not let it bother so much and he should be satisfied with this arrangement. So why does it hurt so much? Because he was an idiot. Silly and idealistic.

His one dream, the only one he had hid far away in his heart so desperately was about to become real and he wasn't satisfied. He knew what he wanted and he hated himself for wanting it. It was so pathetic. A weakness that he should have buried a long time ago but hadn't yet. A family. It was so stupid. He had dreamed when he was little that someone would one day come for him to adopt him, to give him a family and tear him away from the Dursleys. Because he would have chosen him among all others. Fool. The professor could not give him what he wanted. He did not even give reason to exist, to want to live a little longer. Everything was drowned in practical details of his plans, but the man did not care about what he felt.

And this self-pity that he couldn't stop, made him even more furious. And mournful. It's hard to give up the last thing he had clung in secret. A small hope that one day, perhaps, someone could find something good enough in him to love him. But you can not force people to love you, can you? And who would want him anyway? He wasn't that interesting, he had nothing to say, he was useless to anyone in this world where everyone could do magic. He was not even physically beautiful, his body was covered with scars, he had this untamable black hair and his thinness was a blatant sign of his weak body. There was nothing attractive there. Even his magic was nothing compared to what others were doing with their wands. He wasn't special, not anymore. He felt worthless, helpless. Once again, one decided everything for him and he did not have anything to say but accept.

Oh, he did not doubt that he would be well treated. The professor was strict but he would keep his promise. And this arrangement was what he had always wanted at the Durleys. To be left alone. But to be truthful, he knew that this was not what he wanted. Not really. And he hated the glimmer of hope that had sprung when, for a second, he had begun to consider that, with enough time, this might change. However, this idea clung like it was stuck in his pathetic brain and he could not stop the fucking bloody hope that was trapping him in. He argued with himself, and frankly, he wondered if his mental health did not go for some holidays recently. Probably. They had met only two weeks ago and they hardly knew each other. The professor had never been a father no he a son. They didn't know how it would work yet. Maybe ... maybe with time they could learn to like each other and to try to... bond. TobBecome a family.

Maybe.

The professor had made a promise. He would also make one, he decided.

He would leave the potions Master a chance - the last - because he wanted one himself. He would try to open up to the man who was to become his father. What was there to loose anyway? He would do things like the Potions Master wanted him to do and he would follow his rules to the letter while trying to get to know the man, to trust him. To make him proud ...? Pleased to have adopted him? He did not know if it could work but he would try. And if it did not work... If it didn't work, well ... nothing would prevent him to die next time. No one. You can not force someone to love you but you can not force someone to live either.

At least, not indefinitely.

* * *

><p>It had taken him a lot of willpower and determination to convince Narcissa to even listen to him. After half an hour of monologue behing the door, he finally managed to get into her apartments. The first thing he noticed was their son, sleeping peacefully, curled on the couch. It was such a relief that he actually felt a weight being lifted from his shoulders, but he wasn't finished with his dragon of a wife as Narcissa, colder than ever, led him in the boudoir, placing an alarm charm on Draco before putting them under a silencing spell. Silently, she sat opposite him and waited for him to open his mouth, her wand held firmly toward him.<p>

This was the first time she behaved so frostily with him. Outside the family circle, she held the role of an ice woman, sophisticated and aware of her social class but she had never been like this with him when in private. He knew he was deliberately cruel, devious and cold but he could not be just that, could he? He loved his family, this was real, not just a public image. Tired, he got up and fell to his knees before his wife of more than a decade, nestling his head on her legs, murmuring:

"Please, Cissa. I'm so sorry".

"What do you want me to answer, Lucius?" She dryly retorted dryly, without dislodging him from his place.

"I know I don't show it often enough but I do care about you. And Draco".

"It doesn't excuse what you did", she answered, acerbic. "How may I know that one day you won't do the same to me? Or Draco?"

"I never would!" He exclaimed, incredulous that she can believe him capable of such a thing, his head abruptly raising. "I saw Draco fall. He could have been hurt or worse, killed. I lost control, he tried to justify".

"It doesn't justify anything, Lucius", she countered angrily. "That you vented your urges on the house elves or some muggles is one thing - yes, I know about it - but that you tortured a child... And I don't care if it was a half-blood a muggleborn or even a muggle, Lucius", she yelled at his expression of disgust. "I accepted many things all these years and not once did I express my feelings on some matters, like your membership to the Dark Lord's ranks because I knew it was mainly due to Abraxas. I did not say a word and I've supported but Lucius, I'm telling this to you now: if you have even the slightest inclination in enlisting Draco there, I would do the right thing and leave with him".

Lucius sat up quickly, shocked.

"You can not think about it!"

"I am currently thinking about it, Lucius". She stated coldly. "What happened yesterday has opened my eyes. In other circumstances, I might have waited and waited, hoping for you to change and to make of your family a priority..."

"You are my priority! I did this for us, to preserve our lifestyle! Do you really want to left this world in the hands of the muggle lovers fools? Do you want me to forget the sacrifices that has been made? It is us, the purebloods that the Magical World owes his survival and you want me to just drop it, to give in?" Lucius ranted while pacing.

"No, I didn't forget anything", Narcissa replied calmly. "Do I have to remind you that I am a Black? I know all of the value of blood and of our rights. But I think there are other ways to achieve our goal than to go on some useless and counterproductive violence against helpless people which just endanger us and give more ammunitions to our opponents", she passionnately replied.

"You can not ask this from me, Cissa", Lucius said, decomposed.

"That is exactly what I'm asking", she stated before approaching the subject from a different point of view. "What will you do if Draco is not up to become a Death Eater or if he doesn't want to be one? What will you do? Force him?"

Lucius froze. He had never thought of that. He had always imagined that, if the Dark lord was ever to return of the Lord, he would proudly present his heir when ready. He had never considered it could be otherwise ... but what if she was right? Narcissa continued, driving the point home:

"And will you bear to see your son back from a meeting with the Dark Lord with the Doloris' tremors? Because I surely don't".

"He wouldn't be in the lower ranks", he weakly protested.

"Ah! Because you were never put under this spell, you who were part of the Inner Circle?" She pressed, implacable.

He sighed. This discussion was far from what he had imagined it would be and he had to admit she was probably right, but this did not prevent the danger threatening them. One doesn't break such alliances without paying the price. Death.

"If I ever choose to betray Him, you know what might happen", he confessed carefully. "I could not protect you".

"We will see to it when the moment comes", she alleviated. "Together".

Lucius looked up.

"You would stay with me?"

"Under certain conditions, yes", moderated Narcissa. "I want you to learn to control these insane drives, Lucius. You're a Bombarda spell waiting to be launched at any time. I can't leave you alone with Draco until you had taken care of this and it is not negotiable", she dictated seing as he was going to object.

"Very well", her husband agreed, defeated. "Then?"

"I want you to think with me about the possible ways out for us in case He ever return".

She put her hand on her husband's shoulder.

"You do not have to face this alone and I'm sure Severus will help you".

"Of course, to denounce me as a traitor!" Taunted the blond, wearily.

"Severus is more attached to you than he is to the Dark Lord and you know it", Narcissa softly stated while smiling gently. "And he is not the only one", she added.

"I ... Okay", Lucius agreed, a little confused.

"We are Slytherins first, aren't we?" She teased kindly.

"We certainly are", Lucius agreed, mocking. "And about... the boy?" He asked, ashamed fo himself.

"We will follow Severus in this matter", Narcissa suggested. "I will send him an owl if we don't have news by tomorrow, right?" She said softly, pressing his hands tenderly.

Following an impulse he hadn't felt for many years, he placed a light kiss on the lips of his life companion. They kept separate rooms and not often did he join her since they had a heir and that she couldn't give him more but now he wanted to show her his commitment. He had learned to appreciate and to feel a deep affection for his wife. They respected each other and understand each other, to a certain extent. Surprisingly, he did get a fervently answer that he did not expect. He deepened the kiss, stroking the heavy golden hair of his wife gently, before leaving her soft lips to explore her pale neck.

They get in Narcissa's bedchamber without really realizing it. They undressed without haste, taking time to rediscover each other body. It has been a long time and it had never been so spontaneous. He had always had in mind the desire to create a family and then, after the birth of Draco and its verdict on the new sterility of Narcissa, their embraces became more rare and relatively conventional. This approach was unusual but pleasant, Lucius found. They made love slowly, kissing and taking full advantage of the moment before falling asleep.

**oO°Oo**

It was the exclamation of surprise of their son that awoke them.

After asking their offspring to wait in the next room to give them some time to look decent, they could not help laughing a little. They felt like hormonal teenagers getting caught, the thought alleviating their hearts even if none of them forgot what was said and decided. Lucius officially presented his genuine regrets at one Draco amazed to hear such a speech in the mouth of his father, having been accustomed to the cold distance that the Malfoy patriarch usually kept with him even if he displayed his affection in his own way with expensive gifts and "quality" time when giving his son lessons. Nevertheless, he seized the opportunity and extracted a promise from his dad to not repeat such a thing, having scared him so much. He quite liked Evan and wanted to see him again, half-blood or not, at least to thank him for saving him and apologize for his lie. Lucius promised to do his best to not disappoint him. This was not quite right but it was a first step. Draco seemed still a little scared but accepted his apology. However, Lucius could not help but feel affected when he saw his son unconsciously watching him and the movements he made with his wand.

They had lunch together and the couple spent the afternoon taking care of their son in a relaxed atmosphere, something they rarely indulge themselves to do. Conflicts would probably arise again, but it was certain that they were determined to do everything to solve them together instead of keeping their fears and anxieties their separate ways. At least for the welfare of Draco. Lucius rediscovered his wife in a different light. He knew his wife was stronger than what one could think at first, but he himself had always put his wife behind the scene in their relationship. Even if the woman knew how to manipulate, doing it with a practised ease to build and strengthen their network of contacts as any pureblood wife should. In fact, her character was much more devious than he had credited her to be but it was true that he had not really bothered to know and conquer her during their brief engagement before their bonding after their graduation from Hogwarts. They were students at the same time but he had never been interested in her before their families announced the official agreement in their union. Even then, he hadn't try to go beyond appearances, merely fulfilling his duties and Narcissa doing the same. However, they got along well and it had always been sufficient to him until now.

Maybe it was time to fix that...

* * *

><p>Well, it goes better, don't you think?<p>

It will get better, I promise, before the end of the first part of this story.

Did you like the Malfoys' part?

**See you!**


	7. When it all begins

**Had it been so long since the last update?**

I promise that the next one will probably be published sooner. And as it will be the end of the first part of this story, it will be a long one: more than 17000 words in the french version!

I would like to thank all of you, reviewers. I'm grateful for all your nice messages.

A special thanks to one reviewer who was nice enough to warn me that I should put a better warning about the rating so, I wil change this in the last chapters. he first has been done and the others will be updated as well but as I'm reading them again, I can't help, trying to correct all the mistakes that I can see, so wait still a little more, ok?

**WARNING : dark themes, rape attempt, child abuse, violence, not fit for children under 16 years old. You have been warned.**

**Disclaimer** : Not mine but I wish they were...

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

**When it all begins**

* * *

><p>Severus Snape was a man who liked details.<p>

This was what had kept him alive during his years as a spy. He left nothing to luck. He had, of course, considered all options before resigned himself to considering adoption. The wizarding world was excluded for obvious reasons. Firstly, because Albus would be promptly informed and, even though he didn't have any certainty about the Headmaster's intentions, he preferred to keep the kid secret. Then, because the kid was too easily identifiable with his damned scar and this kind of secret might be too difficult to bear for the foster family and the leakage risks were just too great as would be the temptation of being given access to the Potter fortune and of showing of the prestige wich would undoubtedly comme with being the Boy-Who-Lived's guardians.

And that wad besides the problems of taking care of an abused child. Also, he would not have been sure of the safety of the child which was unacceptable. Finally, put the boy back in the muggle world would be a mistake. The Dursleys were automatically excluded of the scheme, of course. And taking the child to muggles, strangers and unaware of the magical world would probably put the boy in a situation where he would be rejected for being different. If there was even the possibility of finding muggles willing enough to adopt a child as old as the boy was, which would not be simple and would mean that he would most probably spend the rest of his childhood in an orphanage. Whatever he could have tried to think about, the welfare or safety of the child would not have been assured.

There was only the adoption solution left and the obvious secrecy he would have to deal with.

And its legality,

The main problem was Albus, Mrs. Figg and the monitoring devices. The disappearance of Harry Potter wouldn't go unnoticed for long and having one to disappear only to have another one appear would be highly suspicious and the deception would be discovered right away. The best thing he could would be to fake Mrs. Figg's reports by adding one of his own spells in addition to those casted by the Headmaster. Better, he thought, he might deflect the original spells by transferring them to another person whom he would persuade Mrs. Figg's cats that it was Harry. A golem would be perfect and even more as if the Headmaster would check he would only see Harry Potter, his magical signature and blood would be the very same as the original. There would be no way to detect the difference as soon as the golem would the appropriate ritual, the replica would be a quite credible substitute and something sustainable over time.

And then, in about a month or two, when the presence of the boy newly adopted would left no room for any doubt that he was a separate person from Harry Potter, he would remove the golem and accuse the Dursleys. No, he sadistically thought, he was going to burn the house down in the so proper and well kept little neighbourhood which was Privet Drive. He would give instructing to the golem. It would look like an accident where a boy would tragically have lost his life. Perhaps luck would make people ask questions about finding the body in the cellar's rubbles. If not, he would deal with the Dursleys himself. Still, the status the child would have was complicated. The history output to the Malfoys could again be of service to him but he would have to create related records in muggle administration. This wasn't much of a problem to him as he was knowledgeable of the muggle system.

More than Burbage, he snorted at the thought.

The real difficulty layed in the adoption ... He froze for a moment. Adoption. He was going to adopt Harry Potter. If he did that, it would make Harry Potter is son. His heir. And him ... his father. In place of James. He pulled himself together. It was only for practical reasons, a comedy that would suit them both. Just for the time of Potter's schooling. Once he would be 17, he would be safe enough and old enough to reveal the trickery. And he, he would have paid his debt to Lily. It was cristal clear. At least, it was, in theory. The Ministry wouldn't even entrust him the care of a bonsai much less the Savior of the wizarding world ... No chance. He needed an idea. Suddenly, he had one. Not necessarily a good idea, and certainly very risky, even dangerous, but if he negotiated it well enough, it would solve most of his problems. No one would recognized the boy and it would make the adoption fully legal and unbreakable.

He got up and threw a handful of floo powder into the fire, calling clearly:

"Malfoy Manor, Lucius Malfoy's Office."

* * *

><p>Sunday came and went without any sign from Severus. By late afternoon, just before dinner, he received a floo calling. Lucius recognized Severus' face and immediately made a sign to Narcissa to take Draco away. He approached the fire.<p>

"Severus! I'm glad to see you, my friend", he began. "I do not know how to apologize but I ... "He was cut off by an impatient Potions Master, the latter having neither the time nor the inclination to listen to Lucius' palavers.

"I need you. May I come through?"

Lucius pulled away to make room for his friend. He nervously served himself a glass of a Martellus Cognac before inviting severus to sit and listen to the reasons of why he was needed, while drinking the precious beverage. As usual, his friend did not go around the bush.

"I want to adopt Evan", he explained bluntly.

"Excuse me?" Dropped Lucius, nonplussed.

"I think you've perfectly heard me", the Potions Master placidly said.

"But you barely know him", Lucius wondered. "I know that you feel a certain... obligation to him... but still! This is a serious matter and you never wanted a child", Lucius blurted, not understanding the sudden and very unexpected desire of his friend.

"Will you help me or not?" Severus questioned, treacherously icy before adding: "I think you owe it to me and that's not even by counting the debt that you owe to Evan."

"Do not threaten me, Severus", Lucius said, eyes narrowed dangerously. "I know exactly what I owe you and what are my wrongs. I am ready to recognize them and to repair them as much as possible but you must forgive me for being a little surprised when my friend, who rants about hopeless and brainless dunderheads each new school year and about how much he hates his job as a teacher, suddenly express his desire to adopt a child he had known for two weeks", he exclaimed dryly.

"I understand your concern, Lucius", Severus slowly apologized while thinking, his mind torn between anger at his friend curiosity and indiscretion and his own feeling of gratitude for his care. "It's just ..." he started, not knowing how to explain this to his friend without giving too much away ... He sighed. "I discovered ... some things ... about the boy who led me to this decision", he said evasively.

"What kind of things?" Lucius insisted, not fooled.

"The kind that I can speak of without his consent", the Potions Master firmly answered.

Oh. The patriarch quickly understood what it was all about.

"I see", Lucius simply said.

There was this glow in the eyes of his brother in all but blood that could make him guess pretty much what it was about, but Severus didn't invalidate or confirm his suspicions. There really was a tender heart behind the greasy git of the dungeons mask, he affectionately thought. So be it, he would help Severus. After all, looking at the grumpy Potins Master being turn into a sugar daddy held much promises of fun. And it would probably do wonders to Severus even if it was ... really sudden.

"How may I help you?" He flatly asked.

"As a Death Eater, even officially forgiven by the Ministry, I won't be allowed to adopt by the classic official course", the Potions Master calmy stated,

"What do you want from me?" Lucius inquired, puzzled. "I can't, even with my influence, falsifying an adoption case, it would be quickly spotted and we would be both in trouble."

"No, I didn't mean to make false documents, but I wanted your help about... a ritual that I heard about", Severus slowly revealed. "A blood ritual which only a few pureblooded families have kept as a secret and that would be perfectly ... legal."

"How do you know about that?" Lucius paled.

It was a secret that only old pureblood families shared and used to hide some "consequences" related to adultery or adoptions of natural children without having to alert the Ministry about these shameful sins that would ruin the reputation of many families and their genealogy.

"MacNair becomes very talkative when drunk", Severus admitted before raising his hands in a gesture of appeasement. "I won't tell anyone about it, Lucius, and if I were to be asked, I would even go as far as to say that it was my own knowledge of the Dark Arts that allowed me to conduct this ritual and not a dear friend ...", the Potions Master cleverly emphasized with a smirk on his lips.

"I see", Lord Malfoy nodded, subtly grateful for the faithfulness and slytheriness of his friend' mind. He summoned a house elf so he could bring him his valuable copy of "Prosapia cruor: mos quod ritus" [1]. Severus was about to rise, the precious book in hand, when Lucius went to stop him, staring straight in his eyes: "It is a dangerous ritual, Severus."

"I wil not let him go back", hissed the man, angry.

"I didn't mean it like that. I am with you in this, my friend", the blond gravely explained. "I just want you to be prepared for the possible consequences and, to this end, I would like for you to read carefully the notes ... the notes left by my ... my father, at the very end of the book. This... may help you, I think." The voice of Lucius paused, filling the Potions Master's mind with worry and questions.

"You mean you ..." he started, wide-eyed.

"No", Lucius cut abruptly. "Not me. My... little brother", he dropped, looking away.

Gently, the Potions Master asked no more questions, perceiving that the subject was painful.

"Thank you", he simply said.

He was about to leave when the last comment of Lucius took him by surprise:

"With a bit of luck ... he will keep her eyes", he suggested softly, without his usual cynicism.

Severus immediately knew what it was about. Lily's eyes, even if it was an unknown muggle in Lucius' mind, it prooved that he had not forgotten. That he understood. Himself had not thought of that. And for now, he didn't want to. He paused for a moment, fixing his unfathomable eyes in the steel gray ones of Lucius, seeking for something to reply. Not finding anything to say, he bowed his head and disappeared into the floo network.

Lily's eyes.

The rest of the day unfolded peacefully. The child remained lying in bed with a book the elf proved at his request. He checked again his health before going to make his preparations. The kid did not protest nor did he ask about these activities. Well, at least he would not have to endure the onslaught of some kind of Gryffindor bravado at the moment but it would have to be monitored. He did not want to live with a gold and red hot-headed kid "I-put-myself-in-danger-all-the-time-without-thinking" for the next eight years. He would make the brat learn some decorum and maybe a minimum of a sense of self-preservation. This would no doubt help him avoid much trouble.

But first thing first, he had to take care of Mrs. Figg and her furry spies. He reminded the elf to watch and make sure that the kid stayed in bed unless it was really needed (and beyond the reach of any sharp objects as well) and left quickly, taking a last look at the child to make him understand that he had interest to behave. The latter merely answered him with a slight nod. He went into the bathroom that the elves had not cleaned upon his request and sampled a bit of dried blood on the floor and some immaculate child's hair on the hairbrush, to make the golem. He went into his lab with these before checking the library to get the documentation that would be helpful. The ritual was classified as dark magic, it was only due to the powerful ward of Prince Cottage that he didn't receive a straight notice to Azkaban. The most absurd in this was that the use of the golem itself wasn't illegal as long as it wasn't used to break the law. But creating one, was. Another random stupidity of the Ministry but it wasn't as if it was a novelty... or even a surprise.

**oO°Oo**

It took him almost an hour to mold a coarse statue and to include in it the hair and blood of one Harry Potter while initiating the ritual chant in the center of the designed circle. Incense and candles smell irritated his delicate and sensitive nose but he did not pay much attention in order to stay focused on his work while he tried to impregnate the sculpture of the essence of the original model. The ceremony was simple and surprisingly required few arithmantic calculations, the most difficult being to keeup up with the schedule and the choice of the runes. But this was detailed enough in his book so there was little room for doubt. In addition, he had practiced this ritual several times before as he had put it in use extensively during the first war to drain targets of the Lord under his very nose, when he was not in charge of these executions.

Said targets weren't informed that he saved them, it would have been too dangerous if the information leaked to the dark lord were supported and put into safety abroad by the Order and, since the end of the war, none had expressed the desire to return to Britain,at least, none that he knew of. At the end of the ritual, the golem perfectly represented Harry Potter, the only difference was that it wasn't moving nor breathing. There was only one step left for it to be complete. The spell was long and tiring but in the end, the golem had the appearance of life. Artificial life of course, connected to life only by the magical bond between him and the child (unilateral thankfully) through the blood and some hair. That way, the golem would act and behave in the very same way as the boy it would replace, even if its behavior would be limited to the basics, he would still have the same memories as Harry Potter. He decided to add a little spell of his own, in case the Durlseys had the bad idea to damage the golem before its time had come. Something unpleasant he had great satisfaction in casting,

Once the golem was ready, he gave his instructions to it as its master (if it could be so easy with the original ...), then took him to the apparition area of his office and returned, desillusionned and under a ssmell inhibitor spell this time, to Wisteria Walk. He entered the small veranda. Kneazle wouldn't identify the presence and tattle to their mistress. He stupefied the old squib for the second time of the day followed closely by all the cats part kneazle in the household after a rally in proper form. Then he cast his spell on Privet Drive and the golem over those of Albus', something light, just a relocation of the attention on the false Harry. He added a modified notice-me-not charm to deflect attention to the small flaws of his creation, which would even deflect all tracers spell on Privet Drive, where the copy would remain until the adoption was effective. Then, deflecting wouldn't be necessary any longer as the real Harrry Potter would have ceased to exist, the golem would fully take its place as it would the only one would could be aknowledged as the Boy-Who-Lived, sustaining the lie of its existence for all to see.

Once he was finished with the old squib, he accompanied the golem to Privet Drive. It was silly, but when he let go the hand of the golem, wearing the same rags as the original had two weeks ago, looking at it while it was knocking at the Dursleys' door, he felt guilty and did not stay to see the door opened. Back to his office, he took the time to calm down in his chair near the fireplace while contemplating. He had to organize several things. First, with Gringotts about the aknowledgment of the boy as his son after the adoption and then the management of the boy's trust vault and his parents' legacy. Furthermore, it was necessary to provide a good education for the brat. Stonehaven was out for practical reasons. He had to find a tutor. He sighed. The brat-who-survived-to-complicate-his-life. Besides he would have to provide an explanation for this sudden adoption. Lucius had pointed it and he was right. He wasn't known to enjoy children.

Probably because it was true. Except for his snakes but at least, they had a minimum of brain and politness and were... tolerable.

Hecould of course argue his need for an heir but that would mean revealing his own heritage and he didn't want for it to be known. Especially now. He still could use the same story he had given to the Malfoys. It was credible and Albus wouldn't question it any further. Half-truths are often the most effective. He had reported the story of the muggle woman with the same eyes as Lily to the old man. This should be enough if he explained that the child had just run into him while he was running away from his orphanage. He would tell that it had made him remember that he was the one responsible for the boy being orphaned. He would have checked and investigated to be sure of the child identity while housing the kid and when he would have had all evidence of the truth, he decided to right his wrong doing by adopting the child. He would hint having noticed some "similarities" between his own upbringing and that of the child. Albus would understand.

Would he keep Lily's eyes?

For the tutoring, there would be no difficulty. At least, with the help of Narcissa. It would address the wizarding institute "Strictly Sensu - Homeschooling & Tutoring ', which was one of the most popular organizations for the young wizards and witches education before Hogwarts or for external studies. Many families were purebloods, including the Malfoys and as such, Narcissa would made a point of helping him get a good tutor. After a trial period, he would accomodate an empty classroom adjacent to his own in the dungeons for the tutor in order to give him room for their lessons. He wasn't the first teacher to have a family living at Hogwarts after all. Breakfast and lunch would take place in the Great Hall with him, allowing communication with the tutor to monitor the results of the boy. Once the session would be completed, the tutor would go back by floo and the boy would stay in his room to study under the supervision of a house elf until dinner time - less than an hour or two to play. Provided that the work was done of course.

Yes, finally, this was going the right way.

After Severus' visit, he sought Narcissa. He found her in her boudoir. Draco was in his room, writing a letter to his friend Theodore, upon her advice. He smiled at his wife's foresight. She knew he would have to talk to her after his meeting with the Potions Master. He narrated his interview in detail, revealing his speculations on the unspoken and waited for her verdict. Narcissa seemed pensive.

"I'm happy for Severus", she finally confessed.

"Really? It does not seem to really surprise you as I am", Lucius said, confused.

"Of course, it surprised me but ultimately I think it's a good thing", she explained quietly. "Severus is a lonely man. Apart from us, one can't say he has a lot of friends or acquaintances."

"It's true that his "charming" character does not appeal to the masses", Lucius laughed gently.

"Exactly and I think this boy is like him", she continued, unperturbed. "He is alone too and need someone."

"Hum. It makes sense, I suppose", Lucius nodded thoughtfully.

"In addition, as I've already pointed out", she reminded him, "I find that boy interesting and I detect a lot of potential in him", she stated. "After all, Severus also had many talents despite his blood status", she pointed.

"True, true", he admitted. "And under Severus' tutelage, I think it could be interesting for us in the long run..." Lucius began, a smirk growing on his face.

"... In the long run, yes, and for Draco too. It could benefit him to have Evan as a friend", she stated, smiling.

"What do we do?" Questioned Lucius.

"I could offer myself as godmother", she suggested.

"Sponsoring a half-blood when we refused pureblood families?" Her husband exclaimed, horrified.

"Should I remind you that we have two debts to this very child?" Narcissa interjected coldly, piercing him with her eyes. "A debt of honor to have been subjected to a very dark and very forbidden when being a guest under our roof which, should I remind you, could have you sent for a very long stay in Azkaban or maybe even the Kiss if it wasn't for your relationship with Severus. And more, we owe him a life debt for saving our son from a deathly fall while putting himself at a risk."

"You're right, of course", Lucius admitted to appease his dragon wife before adding : "Furthermore, it will allow us to be close enough to see how he grows into his potential and, with your temperament "maternal", you can probably find out more about him than me."

"Exactly. That will give us the opportunity to catch up with the damage you caused", she continued, uncompromising. "As for my "mothering" skill as you so kindly put out - she paused - even if I intend to act in the best interest of our family, I intend to be honest about my affection. Manipulating a child is a disgusting thing, Lucius."

"I did not say that in that way", Lucius (who had actually said t in that very way) tried to apology. "But it was obvious that after what happened with me and given the lack of female presence around him, you seemed to be the most skilled to be close of the child."

"I apologie then", Narcissa whispered while nestling against him. "The last few days have been stressful."

"I have a pretty good idea of how you could be forgiven", Lucius said softly, enjoying the atmosphere suddenly becoming more cuddly.

"I hope we think alike", Narcissa boldly flirted.

Smiling at each other, they got up to go to the closest room, just to "compare their assumptions."

* * *

><p>"You wanted to talk to me, Mrs. Macfarlane?" The Potions Master asked.<p>

She had tried to catch him in a private conversation for nearly a week and he couldn't escape her any longer. He had informed her that Harry was staying with him now, since he intended to adopt him and that the child was now to be called Evan Snape. A confondus spell later and his story was not discussed, as well as the new appearance of the boy who was still very blond and with very long hair since his return from the Malfoys.A little glamour spell and everything was fine. He was asked to allow the child to take a test to determine his level of the boy and he had agreed as it would be useful for Evan's tutor to have a hold on the child' school records. He did not really pay attention to what she had told him about the tests.

After referring of the boy to one of her friends, a member of the National Association for Gifted Children [2], she chose to pass an IQ test type WICS [3] and the Stanford-Binet [4] test assisted by a final level exam Stats from Key Stage 2 to General Certificate of Secondary Education (GCSE) [6]. The exercises had been spread over a week in order to not tired the child. He had not really understood the importance of getting so many tests but after all, he thought, the more data he have, the more informed the tutor would be. He assumed she now wanted to communicate the boy's results to him but, honestly, couldn't she simply send them by mail or to the child so he could have them? But no! She had to monopolize his precious time ...

Why nothing could be simple with the brat? He silently sighed, exasperated.

"Indeed", the nervous teacher began. "Firstly, I would like to say that it is a pleasure to have Evan in my class. However, if I agreed to host him at the start it was because it was temporary but now ..."

"Evan will not stay at your school in the fall", Severus interrupted. "I returned teaching near Dundee [7], as you know, and I will have a tutor to teach the child."

"Yes, that's good to hear but it wasn't what I wanted to talk to you about although it will probably affect your choice concerning Evan's education of", the teacher corrected.

Puzzled, Severus invited her to continue.

"What do you know about Evan's educational background, Mr. Snape?" She asked seriously.

"Next to nothing", Severus admitted, frowning. "The tests found gaps or learning problems?"

"Oh, no!" She assured him immediately. "None of this, but I must admit that I noticed he was mostly daydreaming in class. To keep his attention, I was forced to give him more work, but even then, he's still constantly distracted ... although his work is always impeccable", she pointed, correctly the full of disapproval eyes of the Potions Master. "I wanted to talk to you because I suspected something about Evan and that the reason I contacted a friend of mine who's a child psychiatrist. She was the one who oversees Evan's exams."

"And where does this going to lead us?" Severus impatiently asked.

"He was really successful, Mr Snape", the teacher enthusiasticly said while putting in display the results under his nose before rising to open the door to the hallway where the kid and the examiner, who presented herself as Dr. Carla Carvaster, where waiting.

During the next hour – for one horrified and incredulous Severus - the exalted psychiatrist and teacher explained that the boy was somewhere between Nietzsche and Einstein before coming (finally) to the point: it was necessary to give the boy a proper education. As if he didn't intend to do just that. Severus gritted his teeth. He did not need more problems and setbacks. He glanced at the child who stood back, eyes fixed on his knees (probably to hide his triumphant smile). He imagined how much this was stroking the child's disproportionate ego to have all this attention focused on him. But he would not let the brat get big-headed, this was just out of question. He would absolutely not tolerate a second James Potter. That is why he made it a point to not to respond to the ambient excitation, strictly speaking when asked.

In retrospect, the kid's talent was not so surprising. Lily was a bright and intelligent witch and, even if he would have preferred to be skinned alive than to admit it loudly, James Potter was also incredibly talented. While he and Lily spent hours in the library just to keep up, the idiot was wandering the hallways still would stay in the highest ranks with next to no study (apparently he was library and work allergic), but when he did the effort, he had the nerve to exceed them all. Well, except in potions, of course. That, that was his field of success. It was mostly unfair, but there wasn't anything that he could have done. Obviously, being his son, the boy had taken some of his parents' brightness and he would not let him waste it, in memory of Lily. He would not tolerate laziness. That way, when he would reach adulthood, he would have a wider choice than a professionnal career as Quidditch player or Auror. What he would choose was of no concern to him, he would, at least, feel like he had done the job.

There was so much that one could ask from him.

**oO°Oo**

Different.

Again.

For years they told him that he was slow, lazy and that he made no effort in class. His own teachers taunted him in class for daydreaming because he was bored and he knew that he could'nt allow himself to prove he was more intelligent that he gave them to see because he just couldn't do better than Dudley. Still, it had hurt. Being praised as a genius wasn't as good as he would have thought it would be. It was embarrrassing, really. He just loved to learn, it wasn't that much and he had studied hard. A genius didn't need to study, they had it easy, he thought. He had worked so hard. It just felt awful to hear that his willingness to do his best was overpowered by some stupid assumption that he was some random genius in the making. What a joke.

And besides, how was it that imperative to Mrs Macfarlane and her friend to call and disturb the professor in order to inform him of the "great news". The dark man didn't seem much enthused and please too if he read correctly the disbelief in the Potions Master's face. The man was too bright to believe such foolishness. He probably was annoyed to have been called for nothing when he was already so busy. Thus, he rejected Dr. Carvaster's offer to help him find an adequate tutor for Evan to handle the "specific needs" of Evan. "Specific" being another word for "abnormal".

The professor said he had already made arrangements and had not changed from his position despite the two women's insistence. He was relieved when the interview was finally over. The walk to return to the Cottage had also been fairly quiet and tense. Upon returning, the professor took him to the library and said:

"Well, Mr. Potter. We should expect to make those fabulous neurons work for something, shouldn't we? Prove yourself worth of such high praise, don't you think?" The dark man maliciously said. "We're going to Gringotts, the Goblin Bank on next Friday at 2 p.m. sharp. In the meantime, I strongly advise you to inquire about our future partners", he explained before treacherously adding: "You wouldn't want to disappoint those ladies with such failure, would you?"

"No ... father", he tried valiantly, his heart beating hard in his chest for his cheek. The professor's eyes darkened for a moment and he believed he was going to correct him as he hadn't be allowed to use the word outside of public places, but he didn't and just went without saying word.

Mixed results then. However, he was pleased to have the opportunity to prove his father that he was serious. He certainly was no genius, but he would do everything he could for the potions Master to be proud of him and... to want him. More than for a mere duty. He took the parchment spelled by his father to call the wanted books by keyword. "Bank" and "goblins" were too broad but adding "culture", "rules" and "procedures", it was perfect. He opened the first book, a notebook and a pen in hand.

He had work to do.

* * *

><p>The following Friday, they went to Gringotts in order to meet the business manager of the Potter's vaults. Of course, they were glamored, at least for Severus as the child still had his long honey hair, his foundation over his scar and wasn't wearing his glasses (he thought that he would probably have to take him to the oculist after the adoption). He looked like any other child. Severus had chosen for himself to wear short brown hair with a tanner complexion while maintaining his eye color modifying his face a minima. In time for their appointment, and after the usual safety precautions, they were received by Ragnok, the very Director of Gringotts.<p>

Severus had briefed the boy about how to behave in regard of goblins as he wanted, as much as possible, avoid to offend the managers of his assets as it would have serious consequences on the effectiveness of the goblins service. The creatures were of a rather spiteful kind. He had made the boy read book on goblins in order to prevent such fate and he was pleased to see that his "advice" has been followed, noting how the boy had immersed himself in the subject in the library. A good move if the calm and collected attitude of the boy were to be believed as the child was looking at a goblin for the first time, without staring or ignoring him (or her?) but respectuously, with a brief nod. A good point to them so as it was difficult to be on the favor of such a susceptible breed.

They were received in a very cozy office – at least, in a goblin book, it probably was – full of armors suits, weapons and pictorial representations of mines of gold, diamonds, etc.. They waited standing until Ragnok made his entrance. They didn't have to wait for long. The bank manager greeted them quickly before inviting them to sit and going to the point. "Time is money" as the goblin saying goes after all.

"What do you want?" He bluntly said.

Far from being offended at this display, Severus quicky explained the reason for their visit:

"The boy who stands before you is Harry James Potter, heir of all properties, assets and titles of the Potter family and Lord Potter as the last of the line even as underage. The matter is that I intend to adopt Mr Potter by using the ritual of the Occultare Parentis and we would like to put the family affairs in order before proceeding in order to protect Lord Potter's rights. Discreetly", he specified.

"I see", Ragnok simply stated.

The fact that adoption wasn't entirely legal in regard of the wizarding law was of no concern for the goblins and they had not reason to intervene in those matters as it often generated more trouble than it was worthy to fight for, blocking the money flow and slowing transactions. As long as both wizard were willing for this adoption, he woulnd't object to it. That is why he got into the procedure without bothering with the hassle of formalities:

"On the legal level, even toward the wozarding law, it won't change much the status of Lord Potter as a client of our firm. We will make a magical statement formalizing the current blood status of Mr Potter by recognizing him as the biological offspring of James and Lily Potter. This statement would be dated and blood certified. After the ritual, we will issue a new certificate. This should be submitted and formalized by a lawyer, binded to secrecy of course, to state the effectiveness of the ritual. Said effectiveness will be demonstrated by the absorption of an inheritance potion of the level three – whose Potions Master will provide an authenticity certificate of the quality of the potion under a truth oath. A drop of blood will then be taken from Lord Potter to establish his new genealogy ... for a small fee, of course", the goblin greedily said with what could pass as a smirk on his face before going on: "May I afford to give my opinion that this is the best solution you could have come up with?" Ragnok concluded.

"Really?" Severus asked, puzzled. It was rare to receive a compliment from the goblins.

"Yes, because the ritual doesn't remove the filial bond with the Potter family but merely hid the truth from any ordinary blood test except the aforementioned inheritance potion and we both know how this potion isn't easily available, don't we?" Without waiting for an answer, the little goblin added: "Moreover, even if the relationship with James Potter was dissolved,the legal relationship and magical bonding with Lily Evans Potter would automatically lead her child as sole heir even if indirect."

"But?" Severus questioned, familiar with the goblins' way.

"There is still the matter of Mr Potter's magical guardian", the goblin recalled with a hiss of disapproval.

"You're talking about Albus Dumbledore? What does he matter? He has no authority over the Potters' vaults, he is only the provider of his education and well being", wondered the Potions Master while grimacing as the Headmaster idea of his charge "well being".

"Usually, you would be right", Ragnok conceded before scowling (which, on a goblin, is nota pleasant sight). But Dumbledore had received temporary access vaults from the Potters in order to participate in the war effort (the goblin pulled a face which was significant as to show his appreciation of the idea), and so, after the death of our customers", the goblin growled, "It has served as an argument towards the Wizengamot as the trust that was placed on the Headmaster by the late Lord and Lady Potter to push the Potter will to be sealed and to appoint himslef as the magical guardian of Mr Harry Potter here to "preserve his safety"", he snorted.

Severus and Evan simultaneously pulled a slight grimace hearing to the word "safety", and if the Ragnok noted it, this did not prevent him to continue:

"As the rules of guardianship didn't concern the financial state of our customers, we proceeded to seal the will as requested and thus, Dumbledore was appointed by the Wizengamot as single manager of all of the assets and properties and, therefore, all related vaults until Lord Potter reached 17."

"But that's impossible!" Severus exclaimed, shocked. "Vaults, assets and properties of underage wizards and witches were to be frozen, unless an authorized access is to be arranged by the legal guardians – usually in order to learn how to manage their affairs under their tutelage and with a magical oath from them to not use any of it for themselves. There is only the trust vault whose content is to be used for education and financial support for the guardians if needed and the latter is tight controled! And with evidences at that!"

"We, goblins, totally agree with you", Ragnok nodded, appreciatively. "But do not worry. We do not even have to invoke the protection of our customers because Mr. Dumbledore seemed to have forgotten - the goblin jubilantly emphasized the last word - the difficulties that might arise ... and that our good establishment couldn't be held responsible for", the goblin grinned, a clear expression of satisfaction on his face.

"Really?" Severus asked, interested.

"The Potter vaults are among the oldest as well as yours are", the goblin fittingly recalled. "And over the centuries and some ... "arguments" between our peoples, some family members have taken "steps" to insure a safe access to their vaults so they wouldn't be accessible to anyone except for the heir or the current Lord of the family and, although we may enter to inspect any property, assets or money, we can't move anything without being allowed addition, only goblins may enter except for the heir (under restrictions, of course) or the current Lord", Ragnok explained.

There was a hint of respect for the wariness of Potter's ancestors mixed with some indignation in being denied full and free access to their own field, which was quite strange to see.

"And", he continued, "because we do not even know the spells used and given how old they are, we can try to break them as we fear the defense mechanisms would damage vaults' content", the Director said, obviously discontented. "And we would not break the trust of our customers for petty motives", he added as an afterthought.

The Director pulled a face implying that they had indeed made attempts only for them to fail but that, in the end, the cautionness of said customer was welcomed as protecting ones money – even by any means including death for the trespasser – was highly respected in goblins book.

"This is bringing us to the real problem", the goblin pointed.

"With the guardianship changing status, Dumbledore will automatically be informed if this means a loss of control over the management of the vaults and properties, right?" Severus interjected, sighing.

"Exactly", Ragnok agreed. "We have to give all information about the vaults, even if he can't touch their contents. Thus, even the access to the trust vault that has been provided for the education of the young Lord Potter is subjected to the approval of Hogwarts' Headmaster. In both cases, any attempt to take money or manage the properties or assets will result in alerting said Headmaster if he stops receiving statements from us regarding the vaults, which is not in your best interest as you want your "arrangement" to stay secret."

"I suppose then that you will have to wait your 17's birthday to claim your inheritance", Severus said, resigned.

"Not necessarily", Ragnok countered with a vicious smile.

The goblin skill in order to protect their customer interest – and their own – was to be proved as Ragnok began to set forth his idea,

The principle itself was simple: every ten years, the vaults closed for lack or underage heir were randomly subjected to a full audit to update the listing of the vaults' content or check that there wasn't any mistakes in account statements. During this process, th evaults were considered as frozen until the inventory was complete leading to no statements for the duration of the checking as no transactions and no movements could be made upon them. It could take some time, depending of the size of the inspected vaults. For ones as large as the Potters' are, it would take years or even a decade. The only way to stop the process then would be the claim of a legitimate heir. However, this presented a major drawback, that Severus didn't fail to point :

"Even if we were to do this, it won't still give him more access to his inheritance", the Potions Master said, a little confused by the financial technicalities.

"But I'm not saying that's what we were doing", the goblin replied, disdainful. "I thought this it could be what we "could" say", he explained, a predatory smile on his warrior face.

"For a fee inconsideration for your help, I suppose", the child softly said, speaking for the first time since their arrival.

"Exactly, nd we, goblins, we could finally reopened these vaults for business", he greedily stated.

Severus nodded to show his approval. It was a good idea, profitable for all parties involved.

"May you vaults always be full and your gold flows, Mr Pot ... no", Ragnok resumed, "Mr Snape."

"May your gold always flow freely, and your enemies bleed rivers", the child respectuously answered, pleasing both the goblin and Severus.

After completing the first certificate with a lawyer who took an Unbreakable Vow to preserve the confidentiality of all act related to "the Potter matter" from Gringotts, Severus asked the establishment of a financial tutoring with the goblins so that the boy could learn how to manage his inheritance upon his majority. He could not speak of this to Lucius as the risk to compromise the identity of his protégé was too high.

Severus merely nodded to himself, satisfied.

The boy would benefit from a strict upbringing under the goblins tutelage, it would save him from squandering his inheritance. There was still some hope that the boy wouldn't be completely and irretrievably a brainless Gryffindor. Thus, with the funds released, he could teach the boy how to manage his property and grow into a cautious manager, skillfully managing his fortune and not spend it all in frivolities. The goblins could meet this need effectively, it was a common thing among pureblood. A meeting once a week and a correspondence course when the boy would be at Hogwarts should suffice.

And the Headmaster wouldn't see anything that would happen under his very nose. Severus put his arm around the boy's shoulder to lead him to the apparition area. Now that the question of the inheritance was settled, it was necessary to complete the preparations for the ritual.

And to say goodbye to Harry Potter.

**oO°Oo**

The following days established the continuation of a new routine since the adoption had been decided.

Evan – he had decided that the naming change was indifferent to him – was no longer confined to certain parts of the house. At least, if wasn't as long as he was accompanied by the professor himself or by an elf. He didn't mind. He had visited the small inner garden, enjoying the peace and quiet that reigned there. After the visit of the doctor Carvaster, Mrs. Macfarlane had refused to let him return to class and therefore, he was mostly left alone even if the prof-his father (he still had a bit of trouble to achieve thinking the name) had decided to put a learning program for him so he wouldn't grow bored. Potions, basically. He learned how to prepare the ingredients and the difference between mincing, crushing, slicing, and squeezing. He was very cautious as it was to be used by the porfessor in his work and the man said himself that he wouldn't accept any low quality preparation. More often than not, it wasn't very appealing: crush beetles into powder, chop asphodel roots, he could live with but extracting rat liver or bulbobulb pus was frankly disgusting.

However, he didn't complain as he was pretty sure it was an essential step to learn how to brew potions, the subject taught by his father, so he decreed not to be daunted by the task, as daunting as it was. He wanted to show his new father that he could be a good student. If proof was needed, the professor-his father had ordered new clothing by owl post just for him with three pairs of shoes. He carefully put them himself in his wardrobe and chest, enjoying the soft textures and the tasteful colors chosen by the p-his father. Black, blue, white and green. But in addition to preparing the ingredients, he was also assigned to investigate their properties, how they grew and where as the harvesting process for each and their current use and conservation when studying in the library in the afternoon. Of course, the man checked that he had properly done his work and he was proud that he always had the right answer to his father questions.

Nobody had ever cared of him like the professor/father did, no one had ever bothered to check if he was studying well. It felt good and warming. It made his stomach turn in knots when he thought about it. The afternoon was therefore an extension of the morning except that he couldn't stay with his father who worked most often in his office for his various business (he did not really know what it was) and had no time for him. This advantage of this system was that after being done with his work, he could continue to learn everything he could about the magical world. Now that he had a small chance to be a part, he wanted to know everything. And there was so much to learn.

But, sometimes, he still felt a little alone.

The house-elves, he had learned, were creatures dedicated to serve a master or a family, drawing magic from the family or the magical places where they lived in, like Hogwarts. They were friendly and zealous, if not constantly afraid of doing wrong. Evan liked them but none really talk to him and he felt a bit isolated. Even with his father, their talk were only about learning and he did not know how to change things. Meals were mostly silent and limited to practical details like "The salt, please" or "Do you want some water? " at the most. Not really the way to begin to know each other. This was not satisfactory in Evan's book.

One night, he decided to take the initiative:

"What projects are you working on, father?" He politely asked, knowing how civilities were important to the man.

The professor looked up from his newspaper, raising an eyebrow before answering quietly:

"Nothing that should concern you. Eat."

Determined not to drop the case, he continued:

"I just thought, as we will be filially related for a while (it was his father's favorite expression), that it would be useful to get to know each other, don't you think?"

The teacher ignored him and he decided to use his last resort:

"You could talk to me about my mother, please?"

Here, at least, he had a reaction.

**oO°Oo**

How dare he?

The only thing he liked about this new... relationship was the distance he could keep up with the brat. He took care of his education, comfort and safety, which was more than enough. And so far, he had managed to keep what he loved most of all: his peace. And now the boy was trying to make conversation. As if they could have any common interests. But the boy had dared to insist, saying that they should get to know each other. Frankly, there wasn't any need for that, things were fine as they were. He decided to go back to reading his newspaper and ignore the cheek.

But it seemed as if the brat wasn't yet finished with him.

"You could talk to me about my mother, please?"

That's what the brat dared to ask He felt the anger rose in him. Did he think it would be fun to torture him? The father's son, oh yes he was. Always looking for what would hurt the worst. He abuptly stood up and grabbed the boy by his arm.

"Go to your room", he snapped. The kid stared impassively at him while his eyes - fucking Lily's eyes – were full of main - Comedy - caused by his reaction. He dropped the arm and the boy slowly withdrew. He didn't look at the boy as he left the room and sat down again. He wouldn't apologize. He had sought it with his cheekiness. He acted as if he did not hear the discrete sniffles of the as he disappeared.

It wasn't his fault.

**oO°Oo**

Evan hadn't cried for years and intended to hold the sobs that threatened to break in his throat. He didn't understand what had happened and why. He simply wanted to know more about his parents and he had only assumed that the teacher would be able to talk to him about his mother at least as she was the reason that decided the man to adopt him. Obviously, he wouldn't. His eyes quickly dried up and he went back to his room in order to read a little, to help him cool down. If he was objective, he thought once calmed, he had pushed things too far and too fast. Clearly, the death of his mother had shaken the professor who still mourned her and talking about her would probablyhave been too painful. He would have to find another way to get closer of the dark man.

But how?

**oO°Oo**

He had made sought the kid for lunch. He had thought that a morning spend in repentance would do wonders to make the child understand what was tolerated and what wasn't. He looked at the boy's faces, searching for any sign of tears or red-rimmed eyes. There was no evidence that the kid has been crying and he was satisfied that he hadn't fallen for the child's act. They could return to their routine and he could only hoped that the boy now knew where was the limit that he couldn't cross. However, he had an announcement to make, and he wanted to get it over first in order to finish his meal.

"The ceremony will take place tomorrow", he told the boy.

Said boy replied, his voice neutral.

"What should I do?" He asked.

"You will lie on the ground at the center of the rune circle. Naked", he specified before adding, sighing as he noted the shocked boy's face: "I'll give you something to cover you, don't be silly!" He said, annoyed.

Honestly! He continued:

"As for the ritaul itself, you will have nothing to do. You'll drink a potion to fall asleep so that you won't feel the pain of the changes on your body. The only thing that you will have to do is to not eat anything during the day. You way drink only water, but it is imperative that your stomach be empty, do you understand?" He said, imperiously.

"I do", the boy obediently nodded. "What time should I be ready?"

"The ritual will begin precisely at 5.06 p.m. so you will have to be ready about half an hour ago, but I'll come get you."

"Good. Thank you", the boy thanked him learnedly, still impassive. "The rest of the meal was quiet, for which Severus was grateful as he was thinking about what to expect for tomorrow."

* * *

><p>He carefully read the copy of the ritual lent by Lucius. The Muggle side of things was quickly solved, thanks to his knowledge of said world from his childhood and his muggle contacts related to his potions research. He first created a folder name to Evan Hordswell at the Wool orphanage in London. He had taken some time to create potion-memories and making the caretakers swallow them in order to include Evan in their memory. With a little spell... not really legal, but well, it had to be done. Then he had even been to the local children acre services to pull a bunch of legal papers to relate to adoption in the realm of Her Majesty the Queen. The wizarding side of the adoption was more uncertain. The warning Lucius gave him was justified. It really was dangerous. Especially at the age of Evan whereas, usually, one proceeded on very young children, usually infants.<p>

Alas, he did not really have a choice.

The main problem was that magical adoptions, at least the traditionnal ones, included a passage to the Ministry for registration before a sworn staff member which would study the case, the prospective parents situation before giving their approval or not. Furthermore, even he'd gone through this step (which he wouldn't) and the original names and surnames would have been clearly and publicly stated in the Prophet. It was just impossible for Severus to go through that path. The ritual of Occultare Parentis, associated with some transfering potions, repressed one parent genes, making them dormant and substituting to them those of the new parent.

Usually, purebloods used it to conceal illegitimate children or sterility problems which wouldn't be good in the higher circles of the wizarding society, in order to keep up appearances. A family friend or a healer sworn to secrecy was normally the witness and was to provide help if needed. Here, Severus would be alone. He has the same skill as an healer and the will to do the ritual with unflinching ritual was classified as dark if you wanted to follow the Ministry's bigotry but the purebloods' influence push to never put it in the Wizengamot's agenda despite some attempts.

To say he was worried was an euphemism..

Once the procedure would be completed, the registration of the child would automatically be recorded in the Ministry files without a trace of the original parents. At the physical level, the process was painful because it was the as good as a second birth. All the genetic patrimony of James Potter would fall asleep, repressed and replaced by Severus'. And given the age of the child, it would take between four or five hours before it would end but it wasn't the most difficult step. That is why he chose the date based on the celestial configuration that was crucial for this kind of ritual. He had exceptionally sought help from his Arithmancy consultant to find out what time and what day was the best to conduct the process. He was grateful she didn't ask questions.

Merlin blessed owl post.

He was using Earth to anchor the birth but had to consider the child birth elements: fire and air. Indeed, Harry Potter was born on July 31, 1989 at 11.25 p.m. Leo with Libra as his ascending. Thus, he was to pay homage to the primal elements to enhance the new ones. He had to strengthen the fire element because it was already dominant but he was going to use the wind element to his advantage to reveal the new child and facilitate the transformation. He had already gathered his offerings: different woods for the earth, Ethonan's feathers [7], incense and myrtle berries waxed candles. The runic circle should be drawn at the last moment. He would use the Cottage earth mixed with cypress ashes to draw it as the ritual room was located on the ground so that the contact with the essence of magic would be eased.

The hardest concerned the magical core that would allow the boy to retain his memory, he would have to be careful when manipulating it. Usually, one would just replace the DNA and magical part but Severus could not do that because Evan was too old. This might cause abnormal production of energy within the magical core and it might alter his personality or even kill him by inhibiting the normal course of magic to feed his body cells. Wizards and witches were dependant of the influx magic in their cells that was the very reason that most attack or illness of the magical core did lead to death. Here, he could not afford to make such risky move on the boy's life.

He would therefore make an overlay on the weakest part of the core to provide an alternative source of supply. But the weakest part of said came from Lily. As painful as it was to admit it, Lily's magic, despite all of her talent, was weakest than James'. He was going to add his own magic to hers but in the end it was not so bad, it wouldn't destroy Lily's magic, only strenghtening it. He would mix their magic in order to add his own signature without destroying nor James' nor Lily's and effectively preserving Evan's memory. He just had to fuel Lily's magic to James' level to know when to stop in order to maintain a harmonious tripartite balance.

And honestly, he would have lied if he even tried to think he wasn't worried.

Of course, he wouldn't show it. Anyway, the kid knew the risks. But did nothing to prevent or stop it. He couldn't probably really apprehend the details or how the ritual would affect him despite Severus' explanations. At least, one couldn't criticize his lack of honesty. He would certainly regret losing James Potter's good look. He had already made an appointment to a teeth and eyes healer to correct what he himself couldn't when he was young. He was no monster and wouldn't allow the child to be ridiculed because of his physical appearance if he could help it.

He owed it to Lily.

* * *

><p><strong>1<strong> Means " Of blood and family : patterns and rituals"

**2** This association truly exists in Great Britain.

**3** Wechsler Intelligence Scale for Children is a test developed to identify potential and difficulties in children under four major components: those related to verbal comprehension, perceptual reasoning, working memory, and finally, the information processing (Wikipedia).

**4** The Stanford Binet IQ test is designed to test intelligence in four areas, including verbal reasoning, quantitative reasoning, abstract reasoning and visual and memory skills in short term.

**5** Key Stage 2 for children 7 to 11 years, while the GCSE examination for the 16 years old which leads preparing for the Advanced Levels (A Levels) which grades will be crucial for university entrance.

**6** Approximate location of Hogwarts.

**7** Kind of winged horse like Abraxans.

* * *

><p>Well, I hope you appreciate this new chapter. It's late and though I've read this chapter more than once, it is possible that there are still some mistakes but I'm too tired to see them anymore. Please bear with me, I will try again tomorrow but I wanted to publish it now as you have waited for a long time. I promise I will do my best to translate the next sooner.<p>

**Thank you.**


	8. The Son

Hi!

**Information **: Some of you noticed that I set the story later in time than the original. There's a reason for this. First, I don't remember much about the 90's and I like too much the 2000's to not use its fabulous technology.

_**If you can find the other reason my Harry/Evan is now born on 1988, I will answer one of your question about the story.**_

**Note of the 04/21/2013: I corrected a passage in the interview between Lucius and Evan, it was too soft to my taste.**

**Disclaimer**: Nothing is mine; I'm just playing with it.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

**The Son**

* * *

><p><span>The 12th of July, 1998<span>

Prince Cottage, ritual room.

That was it. Harry, now Evan, was lying on the floor in the center of the "circle" formed by the Ingwaz rune, the mother rune where the new child would be born, drawn in the ground and filled with fir branches. To the four corners of the rune were attached respectively Eihwaz, the runic symbol of rebirth, the vertical axis which allows the passage between the earthly and the heavenly world, or more simply, between life and death. He had filed a yew twig in offering. Then came Kenaz, related to the creation and transformation controlled by adding Thurisaz for the awakening would not become an endless cycle. To them, he offered oak for the vital force. Gebo symbolized the sacrifice of the old against the new identity, the exchange of magic and the new connection that would be, reinforced by the ritual Elhaz to protect from interference. He then filed a twig of almond and cypress. Mannaz, topped with its hawthorn, closed the circle on the end of its journey.

Everything was ready.

The incense was slowly burning, spreading the smell of lime-tree and with it, peacefulness. Candles marked out the ritual ark of protection as the feathers lined the main center of the rune. Severus had to stay focused. Evan was naked, as he should be, but to preserve his modesty (ridiculous at this age, really), he was covered with a fine linen cloth. Severus was really glad to not have closed the ritual room when he chose the cottage as his home. He could never have found such a place elsewhere which would have been as secure and adapted in such a short time. The potions were ready, they only had to add their blood in them when the time would come. He knew by heart the incantation as he had repeated its verses a countless amount of times. It would be alright. It had to. For Lily. Finally he laid his eyes on the child who was staring at him too. He seemed calm and relaxed. There was at least one of them who were.

He delivered the sleeping potion to Evan. One specially selected and brewed by him, the only one that wouldn't react against the ritual. Wrapped in the rough cloth, Evan caught his eyes for a moment as if he wanted to say something before giving up and looking away. He suddenly seemed more anxious but soon felt asleep as the potion was taking effect. Once he was sure that the boy was in Morpheus'arms, he gazed for the last time at what were the traits of Harry James Potter before checking the time, his breathing speeding when he found that it was. 5:06 p.m. He started the first incantation. Then, without pausing, he began the second while slightly cutting his hand, pouring drops of the precious liquid in the cup which was already filled with the mutation potion. He made the boy swallowed the potion, massaging his throat to force the swallowing reflex. Then the transformation began with the third song. The small body began to writhe. Complaints of pain began to be heard. Severus's stomach knotted. It had to go well.

For Lily.

He had to use his Occlumency in order to not react as the complaints changed to groans, and then, finally, to screams. The room echoed with the sinister sound of creaking bones as they were changing in shape and length to adapt to their new form. He could do nothing, he had to continue casting without being distracted or he would fail and Lily's son would die. And that was not to happen. Even when he had no voice to scream anymore, Evan was still moaning in pain. The Potions Master, whose voice had remained perfectly controlled, pursuing his act with an impassible face and moves, could not help thinking something had failed. But he went on anyway. There was no choice anymore. Finally, the magical core change was initiated as the body, too exhausted, had stopped moving. Severus just wanted to check on him but he still had to mix his own magical essence with Lily and James Potter's ones. He took the second ritual cup in which Evan's blood had flowed in just before the ritual, calling the spirits of his ancestors to accept the child as his own and to the spirits of the child deceased relatives, he remembered the oath he'd sworn so long ago to base his request of this new relationship, of a new magical contract. He drank the contents in one gulp. A first link spread from him to Evan and he waited impatiently for the answer. Time passed, and he feared that he was being rejected as finally a golden link extended his light from Evan to him. Soon, the last word of the last verse was spoken and he could go and check the health of the boy.

His son. That was it.

No turning back.

For better and for worse.

**oO°Oo**

_Hush, little baby, don't say a word.__  
><em>_Mummy's gonna buy you a mockingbird__And if that mockingbird won't sing for you,__  
><em>_Mummy's gonna do it for thou…_

Evan was deeply asleep but the singing was strangely soothing him, even as he was not aware of the presence by his side. The image of a forgotten woman with long red hair and green eyes was holding him in her arms, humming softly. Lily Potter tenderly stroked the face of his sleeping son, tears slowly streaming down her forever young face. She leaned over the front of her child, kissing the notorious scar, killing its intruder which let out a squeal of rage before dying. Evan was not more aware of this than the murmur of the lullaby which accompanied him on his return among the living:

_Be happy, my son._

**oO°Oo**

It took two full days, which Severus spent partly at his bedside, feeding him nutrient potions and monitoring his vital and magical signs for the child to wake up. Harry James Potter had ceased to exist. In the eyes of everyone was born Evan Severus Prince Snape. It was the name that would appear on official documents as to not give anyone the slightest suspicion even if Gringotts would record the full name of the child in relation to his legacy. Severus confessed to himself being surprised by the new look of the boy. He was pale, with a porcelain complexion but without the waxy side of Severus although paler than Lily. He had high cheekbones and a pointed chin like him, but he had a square jaw giving him an undeniable masculine trait. His nose was of the Prince side, the same one that Severus would have had if it had not been broken so often by his father and the Marauders that it eventually went beyond repair. A thin nose shaped in two perfectly straight lines. However, here the comparison stopped as the tip of the nose was not pointing down, it was just round and not bumpy. It was a perfect patrician nose.

His eyes were now almond shaped and his eyebrows, slightly arched, were all Lily's, as was the high forehead where no ugly scar was no longer present. The lines of the youthful face were thin and aristocratic. He looked like a proper Prince family heir. However, he was the same size as Severus at the same age with a good 4 feet and 1 inch (1,25m) and a scrawny appearance. Not much difference with before there except for the disappearance of all signs of the deficiencies and abuse. Therefore, no more scars. And he sported long jet black hair. Severus had canceled the effects of the dyeing potion but did not see the value of the cut. It only would need a quick spell to braid the hair. No need to spend two hours in front of the mirror, time saved in perspective. They were thicker than Severus' and suppler, slightly wavy. He was having a hard time believing that it was done. Even having the result before his very eyes.

The eyes.

He was a little afraid that the boy's almond eyes had inherited more towards the Snape or Prince side than the Evans one. There was one chance out of two. Severus's eyes were a very dark blue inherited from Tobias but his mother, and the Prince in general, although they were not especially known for their charm or beauty, had all clear eyes that attracted attention, such as his mother, whom had been far from being a beauty, with her features far too masculine to be attractive and her thick eyebrows. But she had blue-green lagoon eyes. There was still a chance of keeping Lily's legacy.

**oO°Oo**

He was alone when he woke up but an elf was standing beside him. It was a little difficult to clear his thoughts as his mind was still confused by the potions but, once he had enough resurfaced, he remembered. It was done. No longer was he Harry Potter, a wretched orphan with issues that nobody wanted, the Dursleys' punching bag or and the so-called Savior of the Wizarding World. He was now Evan Snape, a child just like any other. One who had a family. His gaze rested on his body. This new and foreign body that was his now. All new. He felt like he had grown seeing as he remembered being shorter than that. Or, at least, that was what he felt like. That was good news as he had always disliked being so short before. He was curious to see how far the change had gone.

What he knew for sure that was that he now had perfect vision. Everything was just so clear. His muscles were slightly sore however and he had needed the house elf help just to sit on the bed. Then, he gathered his will to require a mirror. He was mentally prepared to the change as his father had explained it to him before the ritual but still couldn't help being surprised by his new look. His eyebrows have changed shape, slightly arched and thinner than he remembered. His chin was like his father's as were his cheekbones. As for the nose… It probably was his father's as his mother's one wasn't like that on the photos he'd seen of her on the few books he had found. Except… maybe for the end, he wasn't sure. The only thing he knew for certain was that now, he did belong.

At this very moment, the door opened, revealing Professor Snape. His father. He felt something that he wasn't able to recognize as he hadn't felt it for a long time: happiness. Similarly, he didn't know that a wide and bright smile had found, spontaneously, its place on his face. His first smile in years. For his father. His family. His new life, new chance. He rushed toward him despite the persistent pain in his body, driven by an uncontrollable urge to feel this irremovable bond. However, before he could reach his target, he was violently pushed backward and felt on the floor shocked. His smile faded to disappear completely. Reality had just caught him up.

« Daddy? », he weakly said as he just couldn't hide the hurt the reject had caused to him.

The silence seemed to hold until the Potions Master finally broke it:

« I see you're awake », Severus coldly acknowledged. «Your meal is going to be served soon and tomorrow we will go to Diagon Alley in order to put your affairs in order at Gringotts. Then, I'll take you to the magical equivalent of a dentist and an ophthalmologist. Be ready at 7 a.m. for breakfast ».

And just like that, he left.

Dazed, Evan let the elf help him to go back to bed, having no energy left in him. He stared at the door, where his father had just gone. His father hadn't hit him but it felt like the very same. But Evan was decided to not let it affect him so much. He wouldn't let his emotions get the better of him. He had spent the last years to master them; he wasn't going to let them overwhelm him just after a little snub. He wasn't some cry baby. He pulled his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and with all his willpower, he closed his eyes refusing to let any tears escape. He refused to acknowledge his heartache too. It was so pathetic to have hoped that everything would just suddenly change. He had to collect himself and think logically. It was not so bad. The professor just needed a little more time.

Just a little more time.

Yet, he couldn't help thinking: how much?

**oO°Oo**

Severus was not the kind of man that fled.

Even as he was tortured with the Cruciatus of his former Master or when he had to face the faces of his victims in his nightmares, he did not flee. So, that wasn't what he was presently doing. Or so he was trying to persuade himself. The house elf had warned him that the child was awaking, so he went to see him to ensure the state of his health and to inform him of their schedule but… as he entered the room, he just hadn't expected for the child to jump on him with Lily's very same eyes. And his expression had been so joyful, so lively. It had scared him if he was to be honest with himself. Suddenly, he had had before his eyes what he had always wanted with Lily. A child.

Except that this… this was not his son, not really.

Lily never did like him that way. Never. This wasn't his son but that of James Potter, not him. It was all a convenient lie for the both of them. The fact that they now shared the same DNA did not change that at all. But still, it was torture for Severus, crueler than all the Cruciatus he could have put through as he was now confronted with the very vision of the so intimate wish he had always wanted. The only dream he had always cherished in a secret corner of his heart. And the boy had acted exactly like he had imagined in his dreams. In them, he would return home and Lily would have greeted him with a kiss while their son ran up to him to tell him all about his day. But. This. Was. Not. Real. Harry / Evan, whatever, was **not** his son. And he felt so hurt, so angry. He could not let the kid take the place of his imaginary dream.

It was not his son.

And so, he had acted as he always had. He had refused to give in to the sudden urge he felt to hit the boy for daring showing such a face to him. He wouldn't fall so low. He then had just told what he had to, carefully avoiding the eyes of the infernal kid, willing away any unwanted emotion before leaving without looking back. Afterwards, he returned to his desk and poured himself another glass of scotch. He definitely drank more than usual lately. All because of this kid. He called for the elf who was guarding the kid. He did not want to see the boy at dinner. It was just too soon.

« Bring him his meal », he ordered evasively.

He had done nothing wrong, he reasoned. He was responsible for providing all of the necessary material, educational and health care. He hadn't committed himself to anything else. He wouldn't suddenly turn into a… a daddy. There was never any question of that. It was an arrangement, a simple arrangement. For Lily. Just for her. The boy just had to accept it. If he needed this kind of - the word itself scorched his mind - affection, he could see that with Narcissa. His gaze turned to Lady Malfoy's written invitation, inviting him and Evan to come to the Manor. The content was polite but Narcissa stated quite clearly that she wouldn't allow Evan to be left alone with Lucius. Furthermore, she reminded subtly of the fact that Severus was Draco's godfather and that she was thinking about returning the favor. It was not something that one could take as negligible looking at the Malfoys status and influence. Besides, if the Dark Lord were ever to return and the boy's true identity revealed, the Malfoys would have a hard time proving their ignorance and would almost be forced to join the other side. Thereby saving Draco. And Lucius and Narcissa. He just had to tell the boy.

And make some preparations.

Now that he had adopted the boy, he would have to get the boy a whole new wardrobe more than the few clothes he had ordered for the two week stay he had originally planned. Mrs. Malkin, robe for all occasions, was excluded, simply because he could not stand the owner, she was just too talkative for his taste. Gladrags Wizardwear was a good place but the quality was ordinary at best. They would therefore go to Twilfitt & Taltting's. The merchandise was certainly expensive but the quality was worth the cost. Then they would go to Wizard Step to match the new clothes with shoes. The new boy's room had already all the furniture required and didn't need any change. It was across Severus own room, just in case and so that he could keep an eyes on him too.

The good point of their Diagon Alley's trip was that it was an opportunity to let "involuntary" know his new "parental" status. He winced at the thought. Lunch at the Leaky Cauldron would be perfect. Tom would immediately inform Dumbledore, who had finally returned to Hogwarts at last. It was likely that the old man would, unexpectedly of course, come to the pub in order to greet them. As he had briefed the kid about the Headmaster and how to behave in his presence during the two weeks preceding the ritual, he wasn't too much worried about it. He had decided to play the honesty card with the brat and told him what he knew. The boy had listened to him without flinching even once, without showing any sign of anger other than clenched fists. He had spoken about Mrs. Figg and Dumbledore possible plans for him. He also decided to talk about his Death Eater past and his awkward position toward his former mentor and the Ministry, not to mention his former "colleagues".

He had reluctantly answered all of the questions the boy had before asking him if he still wanted to perform the ritual. The emerald eyes did not flinch when he confirmed that he still wanted to do it. Of course, had the boy refused, Severus had anticipated to leave Potter in a Muggle orphanage as if he were an abusive family removal case and obliviated him from their very meeting. He would then regularly check on him to ensure he was properly taking care of while making him assume the identity he had created for him, that of one Evan Hordswell in order to protect him from one manipulative Headmaster until it was time for him to go to Hogwarts. This wouldn't have been difficult because the true heir - or rather heiress - Hordswell had been collected by her Muggle relatives who had moved to the United States several years ago. When the time would have come, he would take back the name of Potter and, as the Dursleys would no longer be "available", he would be protected from his tormentors, mission accomplished. But the kid had accepted. And now he had to learn to live with the vision of what could have been had Lily loved him as he still loved her. It was unbearable. He sighed and sank deeper into his chair.

The next day – hell, the next years – were going to be so very long…

**oO°Oo**

The kid went down to breakfast and he tried not to look, hidden behind his newspaper. He didn't feel ready yet. And he blamed the kid to make him feel so… so vulnerable. It was irrational but uncontrollable. Evan didn't try to talk at all, just drinking his orange juice and eating reluctantly a slice of toast, but kept just playing with his fork on his scrambled eggs, not putting any of the dishes on his mouth. Annoyed, Severus grudgingly agreed to do what he hated most. The kid had to be cooperative and so, he had to take it upon himself if he did not want to hang out with a sullen faced child in Diagon Alley and have the Wizarding Child Welfare Services alerted by some "attentive" – another word for "meddling" – people, taking pity upon the" poor child" left to the care of the Big Bad Potions Master.

He had no choice anyway.

Merlin! He had so much the feeling that he was being manipulated...

« Evan », he began, « I would like for you to believe in my most sincere… apology for what happened yesterday. I hope you'll believe me when I say that I've been… surprised – he strongly thought "despised" - by your move ».

The brat was looking at him as if he was assessing the truthfulness of his words.

« Alright », he neutrally said.

Now that had done what he had to, the brat still had to eat:

« Your eggs are going cold », he sternly lectured.

« I've got a stomach ache », the boy countered, eyes lowered on his plate.

Sighing – something he was too doing more and more often – he called for an elf to bring him a stomach soothing potion and an appetite stimulation potion. He took the vials and put them before the boy who drank them in one large gulp each. Ten minutes later, no eggs were left as were an apple, a glass of milk and a yoghourt. Now the boy seemed healthier… Severus let him go back to his room to get ready to go out and twenty minutes later, they both were on the floo network. He didn't want for the boy to get ill, vomiting what little he had eaten before with side-along apparition. As they were landing, he held back Evan as he was falling. The boy seemed surprised by the gesture and, had he not been in a public place, he would have rolled his eyes. Really, did the boy really think that he would have let him embarrass him like that in front of everyone?

He grabbed the boy's hand and after the usual greetings with Tom, he put a reservation for lunch. Then, they headed to Gringotts. The certificate took only twenty minutes of their time, and after discovering some "interesting" surprises from reading the family tree, Severus et the tutoring sessions with the Potter accounts manager before going to the Eye Healer. Severus was relieved to see that, apart from a very slight hyperopia easily correctable in adulthood, the boy had perfect vision except for needing a pair of reading glasses when tired to avoid headaches. He bought a steel frame with metallic silver square (no way he would choose the same kind of round frames that James Potter sported) spelled with the usual unbreakable charm and self cleaning charm. Severus also asked for a glasses case with locking and self summoning charms in order to protect it and to ensure that the glasses wouldn't be forgotten somewhere else after having being used. The Tooth Healer was another issue altogether. He quickly corrected the boy's teeth (which he had unfortunately inherited from him) but then insisted to "enjoy" the remaining time in order to take care of Severus' own teeth, claiming that one couldn't ask this kind of thing from a child while not putting himself as an example.

And to praise the child as his witness!

Uneven teeth, yellowed by liters of black coffee and tea were subjected first to a molding to prepare the laying on of an additional resin called Stinklin (for a very real reason) extracted from Mimbulus Mimbletonia which, once dry, would resist anything. During the preparation, although he very much thought to escape, he had to endure a whitening treatment with Fluxweed acid. He was relieved when it was finally finished and vowed to never return to this Hell Place in his lifetime. What interest was in torturing oneself like that, really? It wasn't as if he exhibited them often, he wasn't a smiling person. Unless one wanted for his students to have a heart attack... Maybe the question deserved some kind of consideration. At the tailor shop, Severus was remembered why he always got all his clothes by owl order. The next seller who would dare proposing him a "makeover" (purple and yellow robes... no way) would have a taste of his wand. He had no desire to look like Albus.

No sane person wanted to anyway.

After ordering a whole wardrobe including casual and formal robes, dozens of tee-shirts, pants, socks and underwear in sober colors (black, white, gray, green and blue, no red and gold, it was out of question), he asked for the boy to have one full set of clothes ready for him before they went out. After changing, the kid looked like a young distinguished wizard quite worthy of his rank. He ignored the bright look the kid was giving him as he hardly even dared to touch the fabric of his new robe made of silk, organza and cottoncoon1. It was just too embarrassing. He was only doing his duty after all. Fortunately, the task of choosing shoes was much faster and easier. Three pairs of casual shoes, two pairs of sneakers and one of formal shoes.

Looking at his watch, he saw that it was time to return to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch.

**oO°Oo**

Knowing the habits of the Potions Master, Tom settled them in a discreet corner of the lunch room, trying not so subtly to find out who was the boy with him. He answered evasively and invited Evan to choose what he wanted on the menu. He, himself, invariably took the same dish. He frowned as he watched the boy looking desperate as he read on the different dishes until he remembered that the house elves at the Cottage only served modern cooking at his request. The boy was probably confused by the traditional wizarding menu offered. Thus the names on the menu were naturally completely foreign to the boy. And it was also probably the first time that the boy even went to the restaurant. Severus hoped he would not embarrass him with his table manners even if, moreover, they had significantly improved since his arrival at Prince Cottage.

« Do you want me to order for you? », he suggested, rising an eyebrow.

« Yes. Thank you, father », the boy answered, visibly relieved.

Father. Severus was still struggling to integrate the word in his vocabulary. But at least it was better than the dangerous gap of language of yesterday. Daddy. As if he was daddy's material. Really. Fortunately, the pendulum had been delivered on time. "Father" was tolerable where "daddy" was not. Too much emotional connotations that just couldn't be tolerated. When Tom returned, he commanded Epicurus2 chopped rings and cabbage sage seasoned mix for the both of them and explained the history of said dishes as the boy was listening to him attentively. He liked this trait about him. He was always attentive and never disheartened to learn. As was Lily. To test him, he had made him prepared ingredients that even his seventh year manipulated with obvious distaste. He hadn't protested and had proceeded without any kind of grimace. He also had done serious research and when asked, he had been able to answer his questions appropriately. He planned to let him soon join the courses he gave to Draco. It would be a good experience for Evan to be introduced to another child of his age and perhaps Draco would be encouraged to get more disciplined if he had competition.

The plates were served quickly and Severus savored his lunch. Tom's cooking was traditionally rustic and rich but, even if he wouldn't eat it every day, he enjoyed it from time to time. It would seem like the boy was of the very same opinion as he ate most of his plate, probably due to the lasting effects of this morning's potions. He still insured to resume the boy's manners discreetly. He did not know how the Durlseys had educated him as he always felt like the boy was a novice when holding cutlery, even as he was improving. Severus had to show him how to hold his fork and knife properly more than once. There, apart from the small catch about the way to file his napkin on his lap and about how to properly drink, the lunch went alright. As he was drinking his coffee, Severus wondered when the Headmaster would make his entrance.

He had just come to order pumpkin juice for Evan when the white beard of the Headmaster made its appearance. He blanked his face while witnessing the boy doing the same. Not that the boy was usually open but someone observant could see the difference.

« Severus, my boy », the Headmaster began, eyes twinkling and with a grandfatherly air. « How delighting it is to see you in Diagon Alley and out of your lab ! »

« I had errands to run », he answered vaguely, waiting for the question Severus knew he was burning to ask.

« Will you present me this young man? », the old man finally asked, seeming uninterested.

« Of course » Severus agreed, reveling in the expected reaction of the Headmaster.

He was no longer deluded toward Albus. Not after seeing the result of his not-so-wise decisions first hand. And even less since after beginning his investigations. Still, he had yet to get beyond his disappointment toward the Headmaster. But it wouldn't get in the way of him keeping his promise. Lily came first. Always. He had been checking on the golem this very morning before breakfast, and everything was ready for the checking he knew Albus would probably do after their meeting.

« Evan », he began. « Let me introduce you to Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, the school where I'm teaching » he said while observing carefully Albus. « Albus, this is my son, Evan Snape ».

Apart from a slight start, nothing could be read on his ex-mentor face.

« Your son? », the Headmaster quietly said. « I wasn't aware that you had a family, my boy ».

« I've officially adopted Evan – emphasizing the word "officially" – three days ago », he explained neutrally.

« Really? », exclaimed Albus. « Nice to meet you, Evan », he greeted as the boy nodded in return.

« He's a bit shy », Severus apologized.

« Yes, yes. Of course », Albus gracefully agreed. « I didn't know that you were thinking about adopting, Severus », the Headmaster tried to subtly convey his question.

« Didn't I say that I had projects for this summer? », Severus countered, referring to their last meeting before his departure from Hogwarts last June.

Back then, he had thought about telling the Headmaster about his inheritance. What a mistake it would have been…

« Yes, I remember but I didn't expect this, I must admit », the Headmaster answered good naturedly. « I would never have dreamed that you would want a family. After all, it's a heavy responsibility and you are already so busy…»

And that was it. A reproachful hint about his spying activity, Potions Master, Head of House and professor's duties and how it would be difficult to add a child in the middle of all of that.

« Thank you for your concern, Headmaster, but I've already made adjustments in order to properly take care of Evan », Severus argued.

« Good, good. I'm glad », Albus nodded as he turned to Evan, his eyes slightly narrowing. « You have quite the extraordinary eyes, my boy ».

« Thank you, sir », the boy flatly answered, face impassible.

« I expected to present Evan to the first staff meeting at the end of the Holidays », Severus explained. « I will discuss with you the conveniences Evan's tutor will need when I'll be back, alright? », the Potions Master concluded, dismissing clearly the Headmaster who, taking the hint, bid them farewell.

« I must be on my way now », the Headmaster said pleasantly. « It had been a pleasure to meet you, Evan. Ah! I was forgetting why I'd come here! My, my! I've ordered Tom some of his delicious billywig stings with its caramel sauce. Have you already tasted them, my boy? », Albus asked Severus, mischievous.

« I don't like sweets, Headmaster, as you well know », the Potions Master growled, irritated.

« True, true. Forgive an old man for forgetting it », the old man apologized, smiling before adding, as an afterthought. « But surely you wouldn't deprive this child from such childhood pleasures? », he admonished lightly. « A lemon drop or two wouldn't do a child any wrong ».

Thinking of the morning session with the Teeth Healer, Severus was definitely not of the same opinion, even if he had to recognize that he had much more enjoyed the flavors of the dish without the aftertaste that he always had in the mouth. Not that he would ever admit it in front of anyone.

« If my father doesn't wish for me to rot my teeth, I think it is in my best interest to listen to him », the child dismissed calmly.

Severus was surprised by the way the boy chose his side before the Headmaster's insinuations of his potential deficiencies as a father, all the while subtly implying that any decision about his well-being was to be taken by his father and not the Headmaster. It would seem like Albus took the hint and backed off.

« An intelligent boy you have there, Severus », Albus said thoughtfully before bidding his farewell to meet Tom at the counter to pay for his order.

Not seeing the point in talking anymore, neither to agree nor disagree to this last statement, Severus led the child toward the floo to go back to the Cottage. He didn't pay attention to the disappointed look the boy gave him. It wasn't like it was important, was it?

Next day, they were expected at Malfoy Manor. The first time since the "incident". Severus had responded positively to the invitation but had clearly stated that he wouldn't let Evan unattended and remote, for obvious reasons, from Lucius. He explained to Evan that Lucius wished to submit personally his apology and that he felt that it was in their mutual interest to build some relationships with the Malfoys. He also informed the boy that he was free to state the conditions for his pardon and the payment of the debt as long as it wasn't unreasonable. He wouldn't accept to see the Malfoys wealth get wasted in useless trinkets. He was also honest about the involvement of Lucius and himself with the Dark Lord and how he planned to take advantage of this allegiance. Just in case He was ever to return, Severus wanted to have a close family circle he could lean on to protect Evan. Not that he would say it like that.

He thought it would have been ridiculous to try keeping the boy in the dark about the harsh reality of what had been the war with Voldemort and its implications. If the adoption was to work, it was necessary to give the kid the necessary tools to protect himself and accurate, even if tough, informations were just that. Furthermore, as he asked complete honesty from the boy he put honor in doing the very same. After this, Evan didn't flinch away and agreed to the meeting – not that Severus would really have let him out of it. If the brat had refused, he would have convinced him. As for the child, he thought that if his father wanted for them to maintain a good relationship with the Malfoys then he must probably be right. Even if he was a little scared to meet Lucius Malfoy again, he wanted to play his cards right and, after all; his father would be there to shield him if necessary, wouldn't he?

Severus noticed that, as they were getting ready to use the floo network for teatime, the boy was pale and his posture was more stiff than usual. There was a repressed apprehension in these emerald eyes. Understandable. To face his torturer - especially when it was a very unrepentant but very ex-Death Eater absolved on bribery alone – wasn't something one could call easy but it wouldn't do the kid any good to live in fear and not face his trauma. Evan tried to grab his hand but he escaped, annoyed. The boy was nine years old, not four. He could walk by himself; they weren't going to some unkown or dangerous place. He ignored the boy's disappointed look, exasperated. He guided the boy toward the lounge where they were expected. Narcissa was the first to rise in order to greet them while Lucius was standing in the opposite corner of the room, waiting for a sign permitting him to approach.

« Severus, Evan », she kindly greeted. « I am happy to see you again. How are you, Evan? », she genuinely asked.

« I'm fine, Lady Malfoy », the boy answered softly.

« Then I'm glad », Narcissa replied warmly. « We were very worried about you », she prompted delicately into the subject.

« Evan is perfectly fine now, Narcissa », Severus interrupted impatiently. « He's fully recovered from the adoption and I intend to officially present him to my colleagues at Hogwarts, at the end of the month », the Potions Master learnedly explained.

Grateful to Severus for having gracefully closed the embarrassing matter of the Unforgivable spell, she took upon herself to have a real look at Evan :

« Those changes are good on you, child », she softly commented, appreciating the finer bone structure highlighted by the outstanding porcelain complexion. She also noticed the brighter shine these emerald eyes seemed to hold now. The small child seemed calmer too, more secure but maybe he owed it to the way he kept trying – unsuccessfully, she noticed – to cling to Severus who rejected him discreetly each time while keeping his irritation at bay. She raised an eyebrow at this behavior, filing it away for further thinking.

« Thank you, Mrs Malfoy », The child flatly replied.

She gestured Lucius to approach.

« Evan », she began. « My husband would like to apologize to you about his unspeakable lack of proper behavior as your host last time you came over. As for myself, I would like to ensure you that we will find a way to make amends for what you've been put through by our hands », she explained sincerely as she firmly encouraged his husband to do what had to be done.

The boy's face blanked even more as he backed out seeing Lucius slowly getting closer. Outside of this small gesture, no emotions were visible on his poker face. Lucius stopped one foot away from Evan and put a knee down before him.

« Greeting, Evan », Lucius carefully but formally began. « I would like to confirm all of what my tender half told you but what I really want you to know is how much I regret what happened, what I did to you. You were my guest and my honor commanded me to protect you but I failed. Furthermore, you saved my son and heir and as a reward I hurt you without thinking about the consequences. As the Lord and Head of this Family, I acknowledge those debts and pledge myself to fully repay them. I just hope that you will forgive me someday ».

The boy just stared at him, saying nothing.

**oO°Oo**

Evan had time to think about what had happened at the Malfoys'. He'd thought about it again and again, replaying all the useful details, collecting them and making his own conclusions. He also spent some times to research about magical debts. So, as he was listening to Lucius Malfoy's speech, even though it seemed sincere, he couldn't find it in himself to forgive the man. He didn't plan on using the life debt on the man. He would keep it for later, just in case he would need it. As for the honor debt, he very much intended to use, not only for his own end but Draco's too. Even as he wouldn't probably want to be his friend now. he liked that such a powerful man like Lucius Malfoy was forced to do what he wanted. To bent him to his will while acting as concerned, letting the man no opening.

He was concerned but certainly not for the man. No one would hurt him ever again and not pay for it. But he was powerful and he could use it to his advantage. As for the way he was to ask, it was something he felt ill at ease but he needed to speak to Lord Malfoy privately. It was even more humliating for the aristocrat that way. His father would watch over him anyway. And when they would be alone, he would just have to… tell the truth. It was one of his father's rules and he would abide them. His father's rules were law to him. And here, it would undoubtedly serve him well and his projects. Everything would be alright. His father and Mrs Malfoy would make sure he'd be protected.

He breathed deeply :

« I would like to talk with Mr Malfoy privately », he softly asked.

Surprised, Lucius turned around toward Severus who nodded slightly in the direction of the room corner where they could both be viewed while being in private. Lucius directed the young boy to follow him before erecting a silencing charm. Severus and Narcissa were staring at them while making small conversation, their hands on their wands as to make sure he would remember to not mess the interview.

Lucius waited for the boy to begin, a little unsettled by the boy's behavior. He didn't know what to expect. What was so important that the brat wanted to have a private interview with him? Things were simple from his own point of view: he would ask for some fashionable games that Narcissa would be happy to provide and spoil him with and Lucius would offer the very same education every pureblood received to prepare his future Lordship which would be priceless for the half-blooded child. As such the honor debt would be fulfilled.

And if the kid had half much potential and talent as Narcissa had hinted he had, it could be very beneficial for the both of them. Personally, he held some doubt even if the fact that Severus had gone so far as to adopt the boy could be a sign – beyond the abuse the boy had lived under of course – and he wanted to keep an eye on his evolution. Right now, he didn't know how to operate with the boy whose piercing eyes were right on his, making him feel uncomfortable.

« Firstly », Evan began carefully, « I would like for you to know that I wanted to speak alone with you because what I have to talk to you about is sensitive and I felt that you wouldn't have liked to speak about it before your wife and your friend ».

« Would I? » The aristocrat said, rising one eyebrow.

« You would », the child simply repeated, slightly embarrassed. « However, I think I should make clear that my father didn't confide anything to me about you or your story. My conclusions are my own and the product of my observations and – he winced – experience ».

Curious, Lucius invited him to go on, very conscious of the watching they were under.

« My father really cares for you, as you probably are aware, and I know he would like for me to forgive you but… I can't », the child explained slowly and seriously. « At least not now », he clarified, his sharp eyes unwavering as the blond lord stiffened before adding: « I understand why you did… what you did and I hope you will seek the help you need so I'll be able to forgive you one day ».

« I don't understand what… », Lucius said, confused.

The boy raised his hand to cut him off, wanting to be heard until he was finished:

« I know your father was abusive and you've been the receipt of said abuse more than once », he stated softly.

Lucius narrowed his eyes but try to rule over his emotions. He didn't have time to reply as Evan continued, unperturbed even as his hands were clutching the armrests of the chair which he had sat on.

« Even now, you still carry the shame of this abuse. You're angry against yourself and your helplessness to make it stop. Furthermore, you've learned that showing your feelings was forbidden but you needed an outlet, something to vent your anger on and that's what created the circumstances of ... what happened. You can't deal with your feelings because you have repressed them for so long that you're using this way to get rid of them. While being the one in control. This is why I can't forgive you for now as I know you won't seek the help you need by yourself and that I want you to get », the child nervously explained before adding : « This is my first condition. »

« How dare you, you filthy… », Lucius furiously hissed before stiffen as he felt the end of a wand on his neck and another one on his heart.

Narcissa and Severus had intervened as soon as they have seen how things were getting out of control, breaking the imperturbability and silencing charm. He had lost his temper, again. But the things he said… How could he know? If Severus hadn't told him and Lucius knew that he hadn't, then how had he found out? He felt nauseous and ashamed. He had lost his temper and that was just unthinkable. Severus was wearing his mask but his eyes betrayed his disappointment. He couldn't face Narcissa right now, imagining her fierce expression.

« This is exactly why I had to ask you to do it, Mr Malfoy, not only for myself but yourself and Draco too », he resumed gently and seriously.

Lucius had to concede defeat aloud, sighing.

« Alright. You're probably right », he admitted without naming aloud the conditions he had just come to agree.

He couldn't afford to lost control like this. Furthermore, he had to acknowledge that it was happening more and more often lately and he shuddered at the thought of hurting Cissa or Draco because of his temper. The consequences, as Narcissa had clearly enacted before, would be disastrous. He didn't want to lose his family. Maybe was it time to confront his old demons. However, he would choose with whom and how.

« What was your… second condition? », Narcissa continued while staring coldly at his husband, daring him to refuse anything to Evan.

« Draco speaks highly of you, Mr Malfoy », Evan graciously answered, now pressed against his father who didn't attempt to dislodge him for once, his hand fiercely gripping his wand as he fixed Lucius, his expression unfathomable. « He says that you know a lot about the wizarding world political and economic system, and as you very well know, I know almost nothing about it. I would like for you to share your experience with me in this, say in private lessons so that I will be able to secure my position as a Lord and effectively manage my business once I will be of age ».

Before he could answer, Narcissa cut him off :

« He'll be happy to, Evan and », she added viciously, « Lucius will agree to take an oath to not intentionally hurt you physically or emotionally when these lessons will take place in the presence of an elf. Won't you, Lucius? », she said with a smile that promised thousands way to death if he were to even consider denying the request.

Defeated, the Lord of the Noble and Eloquent House of Malfoy opted for the wise and safe decision to surrender himself; taking the required oath.

**oO°Oo**

Once the mini-drama was over, Narcissa gestured everyone to move into the living room, making small talk while glancing worriedly from Severus to Lucius. She would have to find a way to give them both some time alone. But first thing first. She sat down on the sofa and turn toward Evan.

« As you may know, Severus is my son's godfather as we both trust him to protect Draco in case we couldn't do it ourselves. This is why, if you allow me, I would like to be your godmother and fill that role ».

Evan looked up at Severus who made him understand that the choice was his, and only his even as he had previously made it clear that he thought it was a great opportunity to him. The Malfoys had declined several proposals from other pureblood families so to accept, better even, to be offered sponsoring as a half-blooded child was exceptional. And truly a mark of respect and friendship.

« Can I think about it, Mrs. Malfoy? », Evan politely inquired, his face still impassive.

« Sure, honey, you don't know me well enough to decide yet. This I can very well understand », Narcissa gently replied, calling Evan to sit too. She amusedly noticed he chose to sit beside Severus who didn't seem to overly appreciate the gesture.

« I'll call for Draco », Lucius added, calling an elf to retrieve his heir.

Draco shyly made his way into the room before positioning before Evan and Severus to greet them uncertainly.

« Greetings, Oncle Sev, Evan », he stated, clearly uncomfortable before adding to Evan: « I wanted to say… about, you know… about what happened…», he stammered awkwardly before frowning, puzzled: « Weren't you blond? »

« Draco », Narcissa warned, a bit annoyed by such undignified displays from a Malfoy even if, in their private circle, she could allow her son some leeway about etiquette and manners.

She explained:

« As you know, Evan has been adopted by your godfather. As such, his appearance changed as well ».

Draco seemed to consider the fact for a moment before shrugging.

It didn't matter or change anything to him.

« May I show my bedroom to Evan, Mother? », Draco asked with more decorum, his cheeks slightly pink as he took in consideration his previous lack of manners and tact.

« Severus? », Narcissa inquired.

The Potions Master nodded, notifying his agreement.

« Dobby! », Lady Malfoy called.

A « pop » sound.

« Mistress called for Dobby? What Dobby can do to serve his mistress », a little elf with big green eyeballs asked.

« You are to accompany the children to young master Draco's room and monitor that they have everything they need and that they behave themselves », she ordered, her voice dangerously soft as to heed her warning: "Ensure that nothing happens to them or there will be hell for you to pay".

« Yes, Mistress. Dobby is happy to serve and obey to the Noble house of the Malfoys », the little elf fervently nodded, humbly bowing to the floor.

Draco grabbed Evan's hand, forcing him to follow him and to leave also Severus, which relieved the Potions Master. However, he couldn't help but notice the anxious eyes turned to him as he left but chose to ignore it. Evan would be safe with Draco and the house-elf. He was sure that when they would fetch them for dinner, they would struggle to get them out of their games. As the boy were leaving, Narcissa decided it was time for her to do the same in order to let the men have their discussion by pretending having to give her instructions to the elves for dinner so she could go and leave them alone.

As soon as she left the room, a heavy silence settled.

**oO°Oo**

« What do you wanna do? », Draco asked, once he'd succeeded in drawing Evan up to his room, Dobby staying at a distance.

Draco saw his playmate shrugging and chose to get his favorite one: "Bubbleriddle". One had to guess about one dragon specie before blowing in some kind of flute which released a bubble in the shape of a dragon, colour and all. This game existed with other animals too but Draco liked the dragon's one the most. If you had guessed right, you had a point and if you were wrong, you lost one. The first having 10 points won. The loser had to do a dare. As he watched Evan stay impassive, his excitation deemed, realising how much his behaviour must seemed inappropriate considering the circumstances.

« Err... if you don't want to play, it's okay. I understand you must be angry with me, you know. I've been a jerk... I just would like to... I don't know. I suppose I want to be forgiven », he nervously explained. « I'm not used to…err… but I'm really sorry so…»

Evan looked at him with his piercing eyes, putting Draco ill at ease, before softly asking:

« Do you have… a book on Dragons? »

Draco beamed.

**oO°Oo**

Neither man knew how to start this conversation; none of them having ever been talkative. The silence was heavy now. However, Lucius knew that he should be the one to make the first step. He decided to drop the mask. Severus was his adopted brother, the one who had watched over him on the battlefield and to whom he had entrusted the care of his only son. The man deserved to be spoken openly.

« I don't know what to say or what to do to make you forgive me », he quietly admitted.

The Potions Master looked at him for a moment before releasing his own mask.

« Lucius, you know I want to forgive you. You've always been there for me when I needed it and yet I've always been aware of your weaknesses. I always knew that such things were likely to happen », he calmly confessed.

« Was it that obvious? », he questioned, defeated.

« If your question is why I have not talked to you about it before, you know as well as I do that you would have refused to address the issue », Severus pointed.

« Probably », the blond recognized, grimacing.

The silence was lighter and comfortable this time.

« Did you speak about it with Narcissa? », Severus curiously asked.

« She had refused to let me approach her or Draco for hours after…"the incident" », Lucius explained, embarrassed. « And she, as your son, is of the opinion that I need… help », he admitted, cringing.

« Evan? », Severus asked, surprised.

« Yes. It was his… first condition », the blond explained. « The one he wanted to speak with me in private », he added. « He said that… that he won't be able to forgive me as long as I wouldn't take… this step », he uttered with difficulty.

« Ah », was all the Potions Master could think to reply, stunned.

« Severus? », Lucius resumed, suddenly serious and solemn, deciding it was the right time to tackle the issue he and Narcissa had talked about.

« Yes? », Severus simply said, puzzled by the sudden change.

« You know that… He isn't really… gone », the blond carefully asked.

« It's a possibility, yes », Severus admitted, his mask once more in place.

He didn't understand what Lucius wanted to speak about and it was making him suspicious.

« Now that you have a family, I think that you may understand what I'm alluding to », Lucius pressed, trying to figure out his friend without saying or implying himself too much, breaking the status quo in their relationship.

« Not really. Please, be more explicit », the Potions Master calmly replied, has he had a pretty good idea of what his friend wanted to admit but wanted to hear it from his own lips, as to not jeopardize his position as a spy.

The blond paced a little, weighing his options before choosing to clearly formulate his new resolve:

« I don't want my son to follow my footsteps », he admitted, defiant but anxious of his friend reaction.

« Becoming a Death Eater? », Severus asked, as to be sure.

Lucius nodded.

« Yes », he painfully breathed.

Severus didn't think about it twice, it was the opportunity he had waited for so long.

« How may I be of help? », he offered immediately, indicating that he would keep Lucius' treachery from their former "associates".

« I'd like to avoid asking help from Dumbledore, as you may imagine », Lucius gloomily explained, « I don't want to follow the Dark Lord anymore but it doesn't mean that I'm going to suddenly become a muggle lover fool, you know », he went on, restless. « I still support blood superiority and the principles I've been raised into, but what I want foremost is to protect my family. I don't have a plan or even the beginning of a solution to do that and that's why I need your help, my friend. Without endangering yourself, of course », Lucius added firmly.

« First, we need to find a way to stop any punishment coming from the Dark Mark and secondly, you need to distance yourself from our "colleagues"», Severus replied, voluntary ignoring the warning.

But Lucius wouldn't let it go. He grabbed his friend's shoulders, forcing him to look at him.

« Severus, you have Evan, now. You must take care of yourself and think about the protection of your family. I would never ask you to quit His service if that's what you want but…»

« It has nothing to do with that… », Severus dryly retorted.

« It has everything to do with that! », Lucius blew up at his friend's stubbornness and lack of concern for his family. « You have a son, a family, it must be your first concern unless…», Lucius paled. « You want him to join the Death Eaters? »

« No », Severus immediately answered, putting his friend at ease. « Evan won't join Him if I can help it but I won't quit, Lucius ».

The meaning of it struck the blond hard.

« So, it was true… », he flatly stated. « You were a spy for the old coot ».

Severus didn't answer as none was needed. Lucius went on, more serene.

« It doesn't matter what Dumbledore told you or promised you, my friend, you have done your… duty during this war but now, you must think about yourself and your son », he stressed.

« I will give you all the help you will need, Lucius », Severus concluded, his face closed. « As for the rest, let me make my own choices, will you? »

The Lord of the House of Malfoy stared at Severus' eyes before sighing to let his friend know of his acceptance, despite the fact that he didn't approve the decision of his little brother.

« As you wish », he whispered. « I will respect your choice ».

They stayed a moment there, without speaking, gazing at the Manor's gardens. That's how Narcissa found them later, bringing them out of their contemplations.

**oO°Oo**

Narcissa went to look for them at dinner time. She found them talking passionately around one of the many toy catalogs that Draco used to let them know what new object had caught his attention. Well… more exactly, Draco was rambling with enthusiasm about the most new famous toy while Evan seemed a bit lost and even perplexed. Finally noticing his mother presence, Draco immediately had to explained, his face betraying his outraged feelings, the matter that put him in that particular state.

« Mother! », he exclaimed, throwing himself into hers arms. « Did you know that Evan's birthday was on the late 31st? And he didn't even have a birthday party or even presents! », Draco explained, seemingly personally offended at the thought.

As Draco went on, Evan's face became closed off and Narcissa felt her worrying rise up, remembering earlier Severus' behavior toward his newly adopted son. His systematic rejection of the boy's clumsy attempts to be close of him. She didn't understand the Potions Master's attitude. Raising a child was much more than just assuring him food, clothes and shelter. She herself tried to make sure to be sufficiently available for her son, especially since she felt guilty to refuse him to go to his friends as much as he would like for fear of what might happen. She tried to invite his friends as often as possible and to organize many social events where children were invited to overcome his loneliness so she thought Evan's adoption quite providential. But the boy seemed to encounter difficulties in his relationship with Severus. She made a mental note to broach the subject with the Potions Master and Lucius in private. Her husband had hinted about the boy's treatment at the hands of the muggles and she thought it was a great opportunity for her to include the boy in their family. After all, the boy wouldn't be very fond of muggles himself and with a proper education; she could mold him toward the lost arts…

« I think we can organize something for next Saturday », she suggested lightly. « Severus has never been one for parties, he tries to dodge them at the earliest », she chuckled, trying to excuse the Potions Master. « I'm sure he'll be relieved to let me plan this party for him », she kindly offered, thinking that she wouldn't let Severus get out of it.

« Brilliant! » Draco exclaimed before turning to face his friend: « I just know what I will get to you but you will have to wait as I will be as mute as a Licesingball3! »

« Draco! » Narcissa gently but firmly intervened. « It's diner time. We will eat in the Blue dining room », she promptly added.

Still excited, Draco ran for the door, yelling:

« The last arrived is a leaking puffskein! »

Narcissa sighed, amused, as her son disappeared, the sound of his steps moving away quickly.

« He's on a sugar high, isn't he? », she said, shaking her head.

The child relaxed slightly. She took the opportunity to start the conversation while driving him through the vast corridors of the Manor.

« I hope he hasn't spoiled his appetite, I've asked the elves to make his favorite dish », she melodramatically sighed. « And you? », she asked. « Are you hungry? »

The child stiffened before replying:

« No, not really, Mrs Malfoy ».

« Too much sugar? », she teased, trying to make him understand that she wasn't angry with him.

« No, madam. I'm not usually really hungry, that's all », he explained, neutrally.

Suddenly, the boy stopped walking, staring at her with an intensive look before asking:

« Why do you want to be my godmother? »

Narcissa, surprised by the sudden change of conversation, didn't know what to reply, weighting her options before choosing to be straightforward.

As a young girl, she had dreamt of a big family, as she herself had been a happy child with her two older sisters. When her dream had fallen apart, she had clung to and doted on Draco, knowing that he would be the only child she would ever bear. And she had taken a hard blow when Lucius had put a distance with her after hearing the news that she wouldn't be able to produce another heir anymore. She, of course, hadn't be gullible enough to believe her husband had feelings for her outside of her ability to have children and be a suitable wife to him but she had cherished the thought of him being chosen as her husband.

She always had feelings for him while at Hogwarts but had never acted upon them, as a proper young lady, knowing that the choice of her betrothed wasn't in her hands. She wasn't as rebellious as Andromeda or had the nerves of Bellatrix to do so anyway. It had been so much difficult to overcome her natural shyness while growing up so she could manage to find a place to belong in the high circles. And he never really noticed her anyway, even if he had always been perfectly polite and charming with her.

When she had known he was the one her parents had chosen for her, she had literally glowed with happiness. After their wedding, she had tried to get close of her husband only to come up against a wall of polite indifference. He just wasn't interested in her besides the producing of an heir and her help to rise in society. She had been horribly hurt but she had come to accept what little he was giving her and she had worked hard to be an asset to him, to be his shadow in order to get him in the most prestigious circles, to raise him as a powerful figure in their society. She had gradually gained his trust despite her many successive miscarriages that left her deeply wounded in her flesh and heart. She was even partially successful in ignoring the hurt that Lucius infidelities brought.

But since Evan's arrival, their lives had changed. Draco had now a real playmate his age he could see often without fearing for his safety and he seemed happier, less lonely. Just for this, she would have been grateful. But he had unknowingly creating a new balance of power between her and Lucius. The circumstances had certainly been unhappy but they had the merit to have awakened her. She had let her feelings and her sadness get the better of her.

She had looked the other way when confronted with Lucius fits of rage or his involvement with the Dark lord because she didn't want to imagine the consequences. But seeing Lucius torture a child, under their own roof, had made her open her eyes to face reality. She couldn't let Lucius lead their family to its ruin. And if she had to pack her things and take Draco with her then… so be it! But… Lucius had begged her to listen, to forgive him.

And they had talked, as equals, for the first time of their common life. He had listened what she had to say and that she would stood up to her convictions. That she was serious and would use everything in order to protect her family; including from him. He had accepted her conditions. Then, he had made love to her. Not the conjugal duty he always did before but he had made love with care and tenderness as she had always dreamt he would do. Usually, after he would have left her to go back to his own quarters but this time, he had stayed with her. He had let her embraced him and she had surprised herself to hope once more as she had stopped to a while ago. Evan had offered them a new path that could change their life and she wanted to believe that they could make it.

She put a knee on the floor before Evan.

« Because I have seen the positive impact that your arrival has generated and the changes that are happening that you certainly unintentionally caused. They make me hopeful for the future. My son found a friend in you and I'm sure your friendship will be a great benefit for him. Furthermore, thanks to you, I finally dared to address Lucius' issues and I realize how much we had neglected their importance by just ignoring them. Also, I'm sure that, eventually, you will also be of a good influence on your father if you give him time », she softly said. « I want to give back what little I can, do you understand? », she graciously finished.

The boy stayed silent, assessing her words, seemingly ill at ease and a little embarrassed even as his face was still blank but Narcissa had been a slytherin and she knew the signs. Finally, he answered.

« Father is Draco's godfather and I know he gives him potions lessons and this kind of things », he began, swallowing with difficulty. « Will you…? », he stopped there, unable to continue.

Narcissa smiled.

« I thought I could give you the same lessons I gave Draco », she kindly explained. « Things that you can't learn from books like etiquette, foreign languages, ballroom dancing but also traditions and magical history as I've learned them myself. And maybe… music too if you're interested? », she added.

Evan raised an interested brow so she went on:

« Would you like to learn to play an instrument? », she asked, hopeful.

She, herself, had learned to play piano when she was young and she still played it passionately. Andromeda and Bellatrix respectively played violin and cello but never had the same musical enthusiasm as she herself had. As for Draco, after two fits of hysterics of his two professors, she had to give up on making him learn music. He didn't have the interest or the patience required for the exercising of an instrument. She impatiently waited (even though she hid it perfectly) the answer of her future (at least she hoped so) protégé:

« I've… I've always liked violin », he hesitantly said.

Hadn't she restrained herself, she would have clasped him in her arms. It didn't matter if he didn't accept her as his godmother, she would do anything so that he could have violin lessons.

« Wonderful! », Lady Malfoy exclaimed joyfully. « What do you think if we were to organize lessons every Saturday, on the afternoon, maybe after or even before your interviews with myself or Lucius? Or another day? », she babbled as she hadn't done in years. « We will do as you wish… if you want me as your godmother, of course », she offered again.

There was a silence before the child seemed to come to a decision, his eyes meeting hers:

« I would be delighted, Mrs Malfoy. »

Severus sighed, once more. Narcissa hadn't given him a choice. She just told him during diner that she « understood » that he had been « busy » and that his natural loathing for anything related to parties had held him back to organize the proper birthday Evan deserved to have and that she would relieved him from this burden as Evan's godmother.

The brat had probably complained to her, the filthy little… And now, he was under obligation to look for a present for the brat. No, present**S **if he were to believe Narcissa's and Draco's glare. As for Lucius, he had looked greatly amused by the display and Severus swore to himself to make him pay. The Malfoys were deeply attached to family and it was pretty much obvious they were trying to make him adhere to their view, even if they had to sacrifice all subtlety to do so.

And so, he had decided to find out his mother's caduceus, the only thing that she had brought with her when she had fled the sad life and the arranged wedding her parents had organized for her in order to marry the first muggle who paid her attention. He had kept it but couldn't resolve to wear it himself. The necklace was made in white gold curb link with a white gold pendant figuring two snakes with emerald eyes winded around a white gold scepter whose ends were set with emeralds too. More than a pretty jewel, the thing was a precious Prince heirloom charmed to protect its bearer from minor hexes and jinxes and to cast regular health diagnosis, reporting those to the current Lord of the House (so himself, actually). The most practical spell on the necklace was that it was a portkey which could break almost any ward. The registered destination was Prince Cottage as it was the most secure place, the Manor being too obvious.

A practical and useful gift as it was.

He sighed once more, staring absently to one of the catalog that Narcissa had "generously" given to him to "help" him make his choice. He made a disgusted face looking at another useless trinket. He wouldn't buy any non-educational toy to the boy. That's why he had already rejected all of "Rascalers, the shop of the cheeky ones!" and of "The enchanted toy" selections before settling on "Lumos, toys for the enlightened wizarding children", hoping to find toys with an educational value, something which could be played silently and quietly. Finally, he had chosen a bicolor chessboard in shatterproof glass, some jigsaw puzzles with solving timer and many difficulty levels to which he added some traditional wizarding books.

He had, briefly entertained the idea to bring the boy to Diagon Alley to let him choose his presents by himself but had dismissed it quickly. He didn't want to spend more time than necessary around incompetent parents and their noisy, impolite and unbearable crew. It wouldn't have done any good to the boy to see such a bad example before his eyes, and risking him to get ideas in his bratish head. He wouldn't tolerate such disrespect under his roof. Certainly not. And with his selection, he could at least illusion himself with the idea that the boy would concentrate on the important thing: his future. Narcissa would spoil him for sure but he would be damned if he didn't put some limits.

**oO°Oo**

Mrs Malfoy, or Aunt Narcissa as she wished he called her, had organized the most beautiful party he could ever have imagined. Even if it was just the Malfoys and his father, he couldn't have imagined a better dream. Even his father had put his better robes (black of course) in acromantula's silk on and he had foregone his usual mixture on his hair, letting them free. As if to show that his birthday was important enough to him to forget about potions. It made him feel strange and warm inside as he thought of it. Like a knot in his stomach but not painful at all. It was kind of hard to explain but one thing was certain to him: his father was beginning to think of him as his son. If not, he would never have accepted this party. His father wasn't one to let himself been bullied or forced to do anything.

And he had given him presents. Presents that he had chosen by himself! To make him happy. He felt as if he had gone through the party in a daze. He had wanted to laugh and smile but his body just couldn't do it but an attentive observer would have noticed how bright his eyes were, shining with happiness while the corners of his mouth were slightly curled up. He still didn't dare to believe it but his father had taken his place beside him for the traditional ritual of the Magical and Life Gift. He even did an offering to thank the Great Mother for his good health and to wish him a strong magic for the many years of his life. He had guided him so that he could make his own offering for his birth and the gifts She had blessed him with.

Then, he had offered him a precious heirloom. Something he had inherited from his own mother and that would let him know if he was in good health or in need of help. For now, he couldn't wear it as it needed to have its clasp replaced as it had broken when his father had tried to close it around his neck. As no magic could be used to repair it as it would mess with the charms, it had been given to the jeweler. Still it was a precious gift that his father had given to him. Something that was only for family members. Even Draco had been impressed.

Of course, his father had still been a bit grumpy and moody to participate to the cutting of the cake and to pose on the photos but it was part of his natural behavior. It didn't matter to him. To Evan, if he was honest with himself, he felt more than admiration for his father. Severus Snape was a genius in potions, he was great, strong and respected. He gave him lessons and took time to organize his schedule so that he wouldn't be bored when he was so busy himself. And he cared enough for Evan so he wanted him to go out every day if the weather was good so that he could play and get some fresh air while an elf was under order to watch him. And he took time to check if he had learned his lessons because he really cared if he did study. He was very attached to the man, even under his grumpy mood. He knew it now. Maybe because he had been the first to care for him without pitying him but there was more than just that.

He made him feel safe.

He made him feel like he belonged.

He made him feel accepted as he was.

He was just perfect in his child eyes.

Because he now knew his dream had come true.

Severus Snape had really become his father.

And he loved him very much.

They were family. He wouldn't be alone ever again.

Unfortunately, he should have remembered that good things couldn't last for him. The Dursleys had put many efforts in repeating it to him times and times again. He had spent the birthday party following days in a kind of euphoria. And this morning, when he came down to join his father for breakfast, he didn't pay any attention to the stairs and he had fallen. He had recognized the characteristic breaking sound of his wrist when he tried to stop his fall. He didn't shout nor had called for help. He hadn't been raised that way. He simply got up carefully, cursing himself for his stupidity.

He had joined his father, his step heavy with anxiousness. He would accept his punishment for his recklessness but he hoped his father wouldn't be too angry at him. He waited for his father to finish his coffee to try to draw his attention but, as his father seemed to be so taken up by his paper, he failed for five minutes before his father finally told him to stop annoying him for nothing and to go to his room if he couldn't just shut up when he had more important things to do than paying attention to a noisy brat.

It had hurt.

He had then kept quiet, looking at his plate, unable to eat anything anymore. It had irked his father even more who had send him to his room to do something productive like reading or else if it was even possible for him to stay quiet before going to Draco's at Malfoy Manor. He had tried to pack his things before an elf had come to do it for him, saying that he should rest and let it help him. His wrist had begun to hurt a lot and to get swollen but he wouldn't heal it himself with his magic. It was what he had done at the Dursleys, things were different now. They were. He wanted for his father to heal him, to care for him and his hurt. To pay attention.

At lunch, he had tried one again. He still had been rejected. His father just wouldn't listen. Had he been wrong? No, he didn't want to believe it. But… still, his father had sent him to his room again. He had a knot in his stomach and he felt nauseous. No, his father was just busy, he was still new at this, he could do mistakes still, couldn't he? It was nothing, nothing at all. He would notice. He would heal him and maybe, maybe he would hug him and say he was sorry. Because he cared. Yes, it was nothing, he thought, refusing to acknowledge how illogical he was. As much as his wrist hurt, it would be nothing to compare to a broken dream.

The real hurt laid in his chest.

Once arrived at the Manor, he had tried to act as if everything was fine but Draco hadn't been duped. As such, the blond said nothing when he refused to go flying. Instead, he offered to play to Catch the Snitch, the wizarding counterpart for Hide and Seek. He was the one to hide and he had chosen to go in his room cupboard to let his mask go, at least for a moment. The afternoon had been torture then but he wouldn't say anything to Draco or his parents. He wanted Severus. He wanted his father. Diner had been glum to him despite the Malfoys efforts to make him speak. He didn't eat anything. He just couldn't even as he hadn't eaten much this day.

The storm rumbled, approaching.

He bid a good night to everyone before going to sleep.

**oO°Oo**

He hated storm. He wouldn't say that he was afraid of them, of course. He was a Malfoy, he wouldn't be scared for something so ridiculous as a storm anyway. He was nine! He wasn't some cry baby running for his mother at the first lightning bolt. A new rambling was heard making him put his blanket above his head. He was just… uncomfortable. It was the elves faults for not making properly his bed, that was it. A new lightning bolt. Even if he was to admit that he was a bit, a really tiny bit, insignificantly… scared by the storm, there was nothing that he could do but waiting for it to go away. Suddenly, he remembered. Evan was there. He could… go to his room.

He wouldn't say it was because of the storm of course, because it wasn't. He was a Malfoy. He would just pretend that he wanted to chat a bit because he couldn't sleep. Yes, that was it. He got out of his bed quickly, deciding to just do it quickly before changing his mind. Evan's room had been relocated just across his, which was nearer than the guest quarters. Lucky it was as he would have been spotted before reaching it, for sure. And, in fact, he really wanted to chat to be honest.

Evan had been weird all day.

He had been quieter than ever and really that was saying something. They had played, yes, as usual and he had listened to Draco when he had explained how his parents would finally redecorate his room. Because he wasn't a baby anymore so hypogriffs wallpaper just wasn't his thing, it was undignified! He wanted green everywhere as he would be a slytherin later, he had proudly claimed. Evan had nodded politely but he had seemed… how to put it… worried. And sad, too. He felt concerned. Oncle Sev had seemed angry as well. Was it because of that? Had Evan done something wrong?

In front of Evan's door, he softly knocked.

No answer. He knocked again but Evan wouldn't answer. Maybe he was asleep. In this case, he would wake him up. But to go back to his own room… He opened the door and came in. He noticed that the curtains were drawn and quickly made his way to the bed as a new rambling was heard, masking for a few seconds the loud noise of the rain.

« Evan? », he called.

There was silence and, as he was to call for his friend again, Evan's voice, oddly choked, arose:

« Draco? What are you doing here? »

« I can't sleep », the blond tried before asking, embarrassed: « May I sleep with you? »

Draco held his breath before Evan finally answered:

« Ok. Come. »

Relieved that his friend wouldn't ask more questions or called him a coward, he opened the curtain around the bed as to slip into it but tripped on the edge, falling hard on Evan who hissed in pain, making Draco froze.

« Evan? Are you ok? »

His friend breathing was laborious, as if he was trying to not cry or something. Now, Draco was really worried.

« I'm going to get mum », he said, helpless.

The answer was immediate.

« No! It's… It's nothing », Evan clumsily tried to reassure him.

« Please… Tell me, Evan », Draco implored, panicking. « Tell me what I can do », he said sincerely.

He put a comforting hand on Evan's shoulder as he had backed away as much as possible from him, against the head board. His friend had his head down, his figure only lightened by the light coming from the little space let out by the windows' curtains. He heard a sniffling.

« I won't even tell anyone if you want», Draco promised, desperate to help his friend.

« You swear? », his friend weakly asked.

If it really was serious and he said nothing, he would be in a pool of trouble, Draco thought. But… Evan needed him. He was his friend. He couldn't let him down now. He knew that he wasn't always nice and that he often was a bit arrogant and pompous. But with Evan, it was different. He listened to what he had to say and not as just the Malfoy Heir but to him, Draco. He didn't tease him like Blaise did nor ignore him like Theo who preferred to read his books. Pansy was worse, just saying yes to anything he said but Vincent or Gregory weren't much better… Evan didn't hesitate to give his own opinion but at least, they really would speak. Evan was really interested by what he had to say. It was like having a little brother with whom he could share everything and be himself. He could protect Evan and share everything he knew as he was the oldest by almost two whole months! So it didn't matter much if Evan didn't want to speak to adults, he could still try to convince him later. He wanted to be the one to be trusted.

« I do », he solemnly sweared.

Evan burst in tears.

**oO°Oo**

Narcissa found them the next day, deeply asleep against one another, the dark haired safely in the arms of the blond as if he were a cuddly toy. They looked adorable but she was surprised that they wouldn't wake up. However, seeing their tired faces, she thought that they probably had a late chat and were tired by the lack of sleep. She softly called for an elf to bring her camera. She took over a dozen of shots before feeling satisfied.

She decided to let them sleep a little more, going down to join Lucius and Severus for breakfast. The Potions Master had to leave to meet one of his suppliers in rare ingredients who was living in Canada which made him use an international portkey and stand an awful jet lag. As a consequence, there was a real grumpy one at table. She took place and gently placed her napkin on her lap before starting her breakfast until Severus finally got annoyed and asked for his son. Well, the name technically used was "the boy."

She frowned. Maybe now was the right time to address the issue which concerned her. She, however, answered his question first:

« They were so cute asleep together that I hadn't the heart to wake them up », she pleasantly said, smiling.

« How so did they come to sleep together? », Lucius exclaimed, surprised. « Evan joined Draco in his bed? »

« No, dear », she contradicted, her smile widening. « It was Draco who made his nest in Evan's bed ». She added: « There was a storm yesterday night ».

She and Lucius exchanged knowing looks which warmed her heart. They both knew how Draco hated staying alone during storms but that his pride held him to seek comfort from his parents anymore. This perfect moment was ruined as the moody Potions Master started to pester on how this would make him late in his already full schedule. She threw a look to his husband to make him broach the subject and darkly glared at him as he began to shook his head. She was pleased as he finally reluctantly nodded, taking another sip of her tea. Merlin, how things had changed!

« Now, now, Severus », Lucius diplomatically started. « I, myself, am always impatient to meet up with my son each time I come back from my work but let him sleep a bit more. I'm sure it won't be long before they come down ».

« It has nothing to do with that », Severus countered, irritated. « I've got a full schedule and I would like to follow it », he growled.

« It's part of becoming a parent », Severus, Narcissa gently admonished. « Children always are unpredictable ».

« Anyway, I've got the appointment with Stricto Sensu in two weeks time »; Severus went on, deliberately ignoring his friends' comments. « After I hired Evan a tutor, I will have free hands ».

« Don't you want to spend time with your son before September? », Narcissa frowned, upset.

« I'm a Potions Master », Severus reminded her, his displeasure with the conversation plainly visible on his face. « I've better things to do ».

« I've got place for the Quidditch match between the Chudley Cannons against the Tutshill Tornados next Saturday. I thought you'd like to join Draco and myself », Lucius interrupted in order to diffuse the increasing tension.

« I don't like Quidditch and you know it », Severus pointed, annoyed.

« It would be a great occasion to share some father-son quality time », Lucius pleasantly explained. « Every children like Quidditch ».

« Why must you insist so much for me to spend time with the boy? », Severus indignantly yelled, losing his temper.

« I don't know, maybe because he is your son », Narcissa sarcastically retorted, angry.

« I gave him a roof, his own room, toys – he emphasized the plural of the word – food at regular meal times and I provide him a good education. I'm done now », Severus exclaimed, furious.

« Paternity isn't all about giving things and providing to the necessary and you know it », Lucius tried. « A child needs to be cared of emotionally, to have some "bonding time" with you…»

« I'm doing this in order to pay my debt to his parents that I got killed and that's all there is in it! », Severus countered, angry.

« You've adopted a child, not an object! », Narcissa retorted, her eyes flashing with rightful motherly madness. « If you weren't ready to emotionally involve yourself as a father, then perhaps Evan would have been better if you hadn't adopted him! »

« That's what I pray for everyday fucking day! »

None of them did notice the two boys entering in the room. However, the noise of the door closing attracted their attention on the colorless face of Evan and the mute angriness of Draco who was literally shooting his godfather with his eyes. Narcissa raised her hand to her mouth in horror. The tense silence was finally cut by the emotionless voice of Evan:

« I thank you for having me in your home yesterday and tonight. Mrs Malfoy », he bowed to her before turning to Lucius: « Mr Malfoy. I bid you farewell ».

With this and with a last unreadable look on his friend Draco, Evan took some floo powder and called for Prince Cottage, leaving flabbergasted three adults behind him. As for Draco, as soon as Evan disappeared, he threw himself at his godfather, kicking, punching him while yelling at him:

« I hate you! How could you! He had his wrist broken since yesterday and you didn't even see it! I hate you! »

« Draco... You don't understand », Severus tried, upset by his godson behavior.

« You're the one who doesn't understand », the blond retorted, slightly calmed but still furious and hurt. « Maybe you don't want to be his father but really it's you that don't deserve to have him as a son! », Draco spat before letting all his emotions down, sobbing against his mother.

Severus was stunned but had no time to dwell on it as the firm grip of Lucius grabbed him and lead him to the Floo. He raised his eyes to meet those filled with cold rage of his best friend who gave him the bag of floo powder, cutting any argument he could have raised by a simple sentence:

« You fix it »

He called for the Cottage clearly but in a daze. Upon his arrival in the welcoming room, he immediately sought for Evan. Firstly, the library then Evan's room. As he didn't find him, he called for an elf who informed him that the "young master" was outside, and now even out of the property. Near the cliff. A cold chill went along his spine. Evan was now a Prince, he was keyed into the wards and could come and go as he pleased.

He needed to find him. Quickly.

* * *

><p>The boy had his back turned to him, face towards the sea, his body dangerously close to the edge of the cliff. He could not stupefy him without the risk of him falling, and any other spell induced a similar risk. He must have heard him approach as he asked, in a distant, almost detached tone:<p>

« Why did you come? »

Ignoring the question, Severus stopped to a cautious distance from the dangerous edge, not wanting to cause the boy to fall from by surprising him, searching for arguments to convince the boy:

« You're too near the edge, Evan. Come back here, you might fall », he said quietly but firmly.

Slowly, the boy turned to face him and he began to believe that he had succeeded until he crossed the boy's eyes. He shivered. Lily's eyes. Harry's, Evan's… They should have been full of life, shining like diamonds. But those eyes… they were empty, off and void of emotion. Those weren't child's eyes. No one should have this kind of eyes. His pulse began to speed as he was taking in the consequences of what he had done. He hadn't wanted to see. He had ignored the abuse's repercussions on the child by giving him things he never had, thinking it would be enough. But it hadn't been and never would have been enough. The boy needed something he wasn't sure he could give him. Something that would endanger his heart. He had sworn to never let anyone hurt him ever again. His stomach knotted as he heard Evan's answer in the same emotionless voice that before:

« That's the plan ».

He couldn't lose him, he just couldn't. Not only for Lily but because it wasn't fair that a child shall die because he hadn't seen his pain. And he was familiar with pain and the unfairness of life. He had too many examples of that in his life. His life with a mother too weak to leave an abusive husband until her death had made sure of that. Lily had, too, left him because of a stupid word said in a moment of anger and shame. Then, there were the Marauders who were never really punished for their cruel "pranks" and their violence toward him. His slavery with the Dark Lord he had chosen because he needed something to live for, some hope that his Dark Master knew he needed to lure him into his claws. And the no less famous Dumbledore, the Master of manipulations who had used his guilt while acting like he cared. Oh yes he knew all about cruelty and unfairness. But Evan was still a child. There was hope for him. Severus had blinded himself to believe that just being his guardian would be enough. It seemed simple but Severus had built many resistances in his mind that held him to find the right words, to say what the boy needed to hear, to feel this emotion that just wanted to manifest.

« Please, come back », was the only thing he could say.

« Why? », the boy suddenly yelled. « Because it's you duty? Because of my mother? »

A lump in his throat prevented him from answering. There was too much pain in this little body. He didn't know how he could make things better. Then the anger gave way to a poignant sadness and he had to hold himself to not go to the boy. The child risked to fall at the slightest wrong movement. The tears began to roll freely down his cheeks as he blurted:

« All I've ever wanted was a family on my own. I believed that if I let you enough time, if I worked hard enough, you would be happy to have me as your son, you would have come to love me… but you never wanted me. The Dursleys were right for once… I'm not lovable material », the child softly said, his voice broken by the pain.

« It's not you, child. It's me », he tried to explain. « Please, give me another chance… »

He didn't remember feeling so much panic, this terrifying feeling of no control for years. This feeling that he wouldn't be able to avoid the worse. It couldn't be happening, he couldn't believe it was happening.

« Liar! », the boy accused, once more angry. « You just don't want to have my death on your hands. Don't worry, I left a letter which clears you of all responsibility! », he mocked.

Severus didn't know what to do anymore. Every single thing he said was aggravating the situation. He had to… calm himself, to think and… be honest. It was what the boy needed. He needed it too. After all these years, all his masks and defenses to lock his heart, he needed it as much as Evan.

« Evan », he resumed, trying to keep his voice calm and confident. « You know I'm no man to give my word without respecting it, don't you? »

The child slowly nodded. Taking this as an incentive to continue, he went on:

« If you come back to me… no, listen », he said as the boy shook his head. « If you come back to me, I promise, no, I swear that I will… try, really try this time. »

The child face closed as it was clear he didn't believe him the slightest but he still went on. He had to.

« I know I've been selfish and that I didn't put any effort to get close to you, to know you. And I won't lie to you saying that all will be easy from now on. But I would like to try. You know, to be perfectly honest with you, I have no idea about what I'm supposed to do. I didn't have… the best example given to me as a child about what a father is supposed to act and I'm probably going to make mistakes. I won't be a perfect father but I can promise to you that from now on, no matter what, I will never let you down anymore. I pledge myself to always be there for you », he finished, surprising himself by his sudden bout of eloquence, his desperate plea.

The child was still silently crying, as he had probably learnt to not make any noise in his young years. Finally, he wiped his eyes with his valid arm, rising up Severus' guilt as he thought of the physical and emotional pain he had put the child under as he had waited for him to see it, to heal him. A frail hope he hadn't cared trampling on. The child seemed to appraise his truthfulness and he knew, right then, that should the child jump he would follow him without hesitation. He didn't know how much time passed when the child took a little step toward him. A small step but it held so much as the child asked, his voice shaking and uncertain:

« You promise? »

In answer, Severus offered his hand while he solemnly said:

« I promise it on my life and my honour ».

A little hand (so small) hesitantly reached his and Severus gently, carefully, pulled the child toward him. This little, frail and vulnerable being seeking refuge against him, away from the cliff and the death lurking below. Severus let the wind blow away his doubts and his own fears as he focused on the only thing of importance. On one person.

His son.

* * *

><p>That's it! Just so you know, I added some little things and made some change when translating it and I find it better that way. I promise I won't publish the next chapter for the French readers as long as I'm not done with the translation so you can have it at the same time.<p>

I will answer the reviews in their order of arrival so, please, be patient, you will an answer.

**I hope you liked it!**

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><p><strong>1<strong> Some kind of cotton-like plant I imagined but softer and more resistant.

**2** Something pork-like.

**3** Some creature I've invented (yes, another one), kind of like a squirrel as a puffy ball with a ugly head without a mouth, living on trees, eating billywig's essence and communicating with their horned fists, using them to hit the trees bark.


	9. A page is turned

**Hi everyone!**

I hope you like the fact that it has been only a month since the last chapter! I've decided to split the transition chapter in three parts so you will have more to read quickly. Still, it's a 15000 words chapter so...

Thank you all for your review. I'm going to finish answer everyone soon.

Disclaimer : Still not mine, not money for it...

Note : No one has answered me about Evan new birth date so I've deduced that you don't want any spoiler.

**Have a nice day!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

**When a page is turned**

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><p>What do I do, now?<p>

How should I act? I look at the boy who is clinging to me with his valid arm and I feel… lost, helpless. These aren't familiar emotions and I don't know how to deal with them. I feel… inadequate and I don't like it. At all. I set him gently on my hip so I can easily carry him. I feel the need to have him close to me to comfort myself. It had been a close call. So close. I slowly walk back toward the Cottage while trying to calm down, putting some order in my confused mind. Get Evan back and then, heal him. That's my first priority. And then ? I'm so out of my field that I'm close to panic. It's been a while since I've felt like that and I would like for it to stop quickly. I'm not the emotive kind usually, I don't let anything out of my control and brewing is my way of being the one in charge of everything. I know all of the processes from A to Z, I can instinctively correct any mistakes, make adjustments. It's easy to me. But this… this is unpredictable and what is at stake is so great.

Evan is vulnerable and I know that his psychological balance is, at best, precarious. And everything depends on me. Evan depends entirely of me. I don't know what to do and how to do it properly. I fear that I won't tell or do the right things. Tobias was far from being a model as a father or even as a human being and I'm not known for my social skills after all. But I couldn't dwell on it or my uncertainties toward Lily or James Potter. I must help Evan and be up to his needs. Or at least try my best to be. Evan as I don't have the beginning of an idea or even a hint as to how proceed. Arrived in the living room, I hesitate. Should I install him on the sofa so I could seek for the necessary potions to heal him? He hadn't said a word since the cliff, he's still crying though. Silently. I don't like that and I feel defeated. How could I make things better? What the solution? Uncertain, I keep holding him, my hand absently stroking his hair. That's what my mother did when I was a child myself. A long time ago.

Finally, I decide to just call for an elf so it would bring me what I need. It had taken me more than a minute to convince Evan to let me go long enough for me to heal him. I first apply a balm in order to desensitize his arm and to help with the bruise before healing properly his wrist. I could have done it directly but I'm reluctant to inflict him more pain if I can avoid it. His wrist is really swollen and I feel great remorse knowing that he had been in this state for so long. Once I know for sure that the balm is working, a quick swish of my wand and it's as good as new once again. I raise my head and I notice that Evan is looking at me, his eyes still swollen and red. He seems to expect something of me but… I don't know what. He seems to understand my confusion as he shyly raises his arms, blushing. He wants me to… carry him?

I don't even ask the thing itself, I just do it. I want to give him anything he wants at the moment even if it doesn't make sense to me.. I try to follow the meager instincts I can hold into to guide me. And so, one minute later, I carry Evan against my hip, his head against my chest. I sit down to the sofa with Evan on my lap. It's uncomfortable et I'm ill at ease. I know my position is too stiff but I won't move until Evan asks me to. I don't know how long we stayed like that. I don't know either when I began to run awkward circles on his back as I had seen Lily's mother do to her when she was upset (most of the time with Petunia). And I don't when Evan had fallen asleep even if it had relieved me a bit of my uneasiness. What I know for sure is that it will be a long way for the both of us, with me being ready for it or not, and that I will have to be on my own to do it. Because he is my son, my duty and I've done a promise.

And I always keep my word.

**oO°Oo**

In the end, I've decided on doing something I've never done before: I went on holidays. As it was… unforeseen, I only could release for more than a week on my overloaded schedule but I thought that some time alone with Evan was necessary. To show him that he was important enough in my life so I would give up all of my duties and responsibilities to be with him. The house elves packed our luggage so we could leave the very next day. It would be good to get away from the Cottage, I think. We haven't been very far so we could be reached by owl post in case of emergency. I've made reservation on a little Bed and Breakfast on the muggle side of the Isle of Wight. Evan and I will share a room so I could stay with him all the time should he need me or… just in case. I've chosen to use this opportunity to implement my good resolutions and to spend time with Evan. To do some father-son bonding. I don't know how I will do or even how Evan will act but I will give it a try at least.

The first morning – and all the others then – Evan was always dressed and reading a book as I was barely waking up. It's worrisome that he sleep so little. I've asked him if he had trouble sleeping and needed potions but he only answered that he never did sleep much long. No more than 5 or six hours a night at 's true that he doesn't seem like he's tired but I will still make sure he get enough sleep and rest. As we are on the muggle world, I don't use magic. My wand is still on my holster of course but I've decided not to use it. At worse, I've first aid potions with me on my pockets spelled with expansion charms. As I prefer not using magic during or stay among the muggles, I had to do – it was that or cut his hair – what the elves at the Cottage did for Evan each morning : braid his hair. One can't understand how difficult it can be if one never did try it before. It's harder than it looks. Evan didn't complain nor did he get impatient as I desperately tried to remember how Mrs Evans did braid Lily's hair when we were young. In the end, it's the maid, as she was bringing us fresh towels, who saved me from further embarrassments by showing and explaining how to do it.

After that, I got used to braid Evan's hair every morning. I think he likes when I brush his hair, maybe it's to compensate the lack of physical affection n his early childhood. At least that what I could make out of the books I've bought at the local library. Yes, I must admit that I'm so much out of my depth with this whole "father" thing that I needed some kind of references, methods that I could apply with Evan to avoid mistakes. So I did buy books about "parenting", much to my embarrassment. I felt like a teenager trying to purchase some porn, what a shame… However, my glare to the female seller stopped her insipid comments which conforted me about the fact I still had it in me to be antisocial and to enjoy some sadism in order to cause delectable reactions going from fear to sheer terror – Minerva likes to call it "my trauma touch", I don't know why. So, as I was now on the parenting side, I must admit needing some piece of advice in order to raise Evan properly. So I'm now the "happy" owner of "Raise a son: a guide for lost fathers", "Parenthood from back to cover", "Bond with your adopted child", "In the mind of the abused child" and my favorite: "How to raise your child to not be a delinquent".

What a good reading…

I read them on the evenings as soon as Evan is asleep, curled in his bed, face to me. I don't hide my readings, no, I simply find that the day should be spent with Evan to create a familial bond between us and… what did they say? Ah. To create a routine to secure the attachment figure represented by myself in order to limit the likelihood to develop anxiety syndrome induced by separation. Roughly said, it means that I must create a routine with Evan for the both of us so he won't get the feelings I'm abandoning him at the first opportunity like my work. They just "forgot" to explain how exactly… If I really did retain something of these wastes of good paper, it's that their authors are useless and brainless idiots with an ego the size of Alaska and no children on their own. At least none who's not on the sofa of a therapist… So I decided to do as I wanted. After I got ready and finished – laboriously – to braid Evan's hair, we got down in order to have some breakfast. I land discreetly some potions for Evan to take. Nutrition and an appetite stimulant as Evan need to put on some weight and our holidays will take a lot out of him so he need all of the energy available for what we are going to do.

Before our departure, I've sent owls to Gringotts, to my factory and to the Malfoys to inform them of my temporary leave. Narcissa had since then sent an owl to congratulate us and to invite us for tea as soon as we would be back home. Obviously, a "no" wouldn't be accepted. It's doesn't bother me. I want to show that I can properly take care of Evan and as such, my mind is in peace. Now that everyone is informed, I know that no one will bother us except for emergency. Evan and I both wear adequate clothes to match the muggles around us. A green tee-shirt and blue jean short for Evan, a black jean for myself with a black tee-shirt with long sleeves as I don't like to show the Dark Mark on my forearm. To anyone. And with my sour face, no one even try to initiate a conversation with us. Peace, dear peace… The first morning, I went with Evan for a walk on the edge of the coast until we met a bike renting shop. I suggested to rent two of them, thinking it would please Evan.

However, his face had closed and he admitted not knowing how to ride a bike. Of course. I berated myself for not thinking about it myself. Dursley wouldn't have taught the boy this kind of things. So I will. That's what father does, I think. I'm awarded by a smile smile, barely there but still. It shows that I'm doing things right. I still remember having been in the same shoes myself as a child. It had been Mr Evans who taught me how to ride a bike, on Lily's pinky – and far much too girly – bike. I remember how proud I was back then with him running with me, praising me as could stay on by myself. I didn't even care about the nasty comments I had from Petunia. I was so proud of myself. And so I rented a bike for Evan and myself. A blue one for Evan. Then we followed the advice of the bike hire to go to a little road unused so Evan could learn without being disturbed by the flow of summer people.

Evan took more than hour before he managed to stay on the bike and ride it long enough so we could return to the village safely together. He doesn't have much strength in his legs. Maybe I should make sure he eats enough meat or maybe I should enroll him to some sport. I have to think about it. I spent my time encouraging and praising for his efforts. Merlin, I even ran along with him as Mr Evans did with me. I felt utterly ridiculous. Of course, I did cast some cushioning charms and protective spells on the ground so he wouldn't hurt himself too badly and my pockets are full with balms to heal his little bruises and scratches. However, I couldn't help the feeling of pride I felt when Evan managed to finally ride alone. I felt like something important had occurred and Evan had a big smile on his face as he returned to me. Not the little smiles he sometimes did, no, a full teeth smile.

I've offer him an ice cream to celebrate as I would have done for Draco. That's what children like and it was still early enough so that it wouldn't spoil Evan's appetite. Once before the ice-cream shop, Evan obviously didn't know what to choose so advised him to choose between vanilla, chocolate and strawberry, the classical flavors. The Dursleys probably never gave this kind of treats. In the end, he chose strawberry as I took vanilla/nuts as I did usually. After his first taste, it seemed like Evan did like his flavor and was having the time of his life. After, I decided to go to the tourism office to decide what we could do and visit. I think it's important that I make Evan participate in the choices of the schedule of these holidays together, that I want to know his opinion.

I suggested a boat ride but as Evan paled suddenly before me, I gave up. I tried t make him talk about it, to tell what he feared so much but he frantically shook his head, refusing to say anything. As I didn't want to spoil the day, I stopped questioning him. For now. Finally, we opted to go to Ventnor botanic garden where I could show some potion ingredients and their use both in the muggle and magical way. I was concerned that I would bore him but he listened attentively. I would so much like that some of my students were more like him… even by half. I urged for Evan to have a balanced snack with a fruit and yoghurt. He seemed to like fruits and if I were to judge the morbid obesity of the Dursleys males, It was probably something rare back there. I promised to myself to make him discover a new one each day during our stay. He would benefit from all the vitamins contained in them. Nutrition potions are good and well but they can't replace everything.

The next few days followed roughly the same routine. A bike ride after breakfast and then lunch somewhere in town. In the afternoon, a trip at some place or an activity for the both of us. I feel like I manage everything just fine, thank you very much even if I can't help thinking about the work that will wait me upon my return. However, I must keep my promise. He glowed with happiness. I bought a blue and white kite to Evan. He had chosen the colors by himself. Fortunately, there is enough wind for Evan so he didn't have to run for a long time for it to rise in the air. I stay at his side so he can see me at all time and that I'm watching him. He seems to like spending time with e and that's new to me. And weird. Usually, people like to avoid me as much as possible and I agree with them. Survival instinct probably. Well, except for Lucius, Narcissa and Draco. Evan and I don't speak much and never about the Dursleys. I don't want to pry yet, I prefer for Evan to have good memories of his first holidays.

We'll have plenty of time for that after returning. Furthermore, I find it hard to broach the subject. I don't know I can find the right words for my snake and not for my own son? Truthfully, we don't know each other and I don't know what to say. So i go for the basics. I speak of Hogwarts, of potions, of my factory... I speak and speak. It goes against my very nature but I force myself. I even entice him to ask questions about what we're going to do when back, his studies, the wizarding world... He's curious and I like that he wants so much to learn more and more about... well, everything I speak about. It's pleasant. I don't know how I could have mistaken him so much for James Potter. Evan is polite, respectful but shy and guarded. With others. He's more open with me.

And he smiles only for me.

I was caution enough to discreetly cast a sun protection spell on Evan as he's even paler than I but he now sports healthy colors on his cheeks that please me. He's not the only one though. My skin has lost its waxy complexion and, free from their protective mixture; my hair shine in the sun like a curtain of silk. I even felt some women smile at me or try some flirting but, even if it please me, I don't bother and my dark glare discourage them quickly. I don't have time for such frivolities. Evan come first. I remembered how Evan was happy when Narcissa had sent him the photos of his birthday so I bought a muggle camera and took as much photos as possible. Evan on his bike. Evan eating an ice-cream. Even one is with the both of us before Avebury stone circle. I gave Evan a muggle photo album so he could place them somewhere safely. And so, Evan decided to collect everything he could to remember his holidays: some sand, sea shells, little fossils. I then suggested buying some souvenirs to complete his collection. I got a big smile.

I can understand wanting to remember his first holidays after all.

I feel the same.

It's strange but I must admit that I appreciate this pause in my life. Even with all the work I'm late for. I didn't have the opportunity or desire to do so before and truthfully, it's… good. Evan is curious but doesn't belong with these children who can't stop speaking and asking stupid questions all the time. He's silent. I'm the one who tries to make him talk and more often than not, I'm the one to make the conversation (could you believe that?) while he listens. I've come to realize that Evan really is an easy child. He never asks for anything and just seems to beam when I speak to him. He's a good boy. I want him to be happy even if I must do constant efforts and feel uncomfortable and uneasy most of the time. This father thing is exhausting but I'm trying my best so it doesn't show. For Lily. I can't fail her once more.

And I hope that, with time, I will come to feel fatherly affection for Evan. At the moment, I'm only able to acknowledge that I misjudged him but I can't say that I'm really attached to him. It's cruel but true. I like the child and I try my best to care for him but I can't control what I feel or don't feel. I'm mostly guilt-ridden. Still, it helps that he no longer looks like a carbon copy of one James Potter and that he had kept Lily's eyes. Nevertheless, whatever my feelings toward Evan are, I wish that Evan would open to me to begin healing. I can't ignore what he had to endure at the Durlseys hands but I must keep some distance so that it won't affect me, like I do with my snakes. However, I can't afford to be complacent either. Even if our relationship has changed, my rules haven't. It gives Evan a clear idea of what I expect of him and what is or isn't allowed.

He had stayed in line so far.

I know that soon he will be testing them, my patience and my limits. I must admit that it annoys me just thinking about it. But I must be careful with my words and my moves. I still vividly remember Evan bloody body on the floor of the bathroom or on the edge of the cliff. I hope the heirloom necklace will be repaired when we'll go back and I will adjust the wards so Evan wouldn't go out of them with my agreement. And I have a surprise for Evan. I asked from Narcissa to redecorate Evan's room in white and blue as they seem to be his favorite colors. I trust her to create a room appropriate to Evan's age. I hope he will like it. I want him to consider the Cottage as his home. And I must make accommodations on my schedule and organize Evan's. That's something I found myself constantly thinking about and it's a real headache.

There's still three days before going home.

And I think about the best way to have time for Evan once I will be back to Hogwarts. It's important that Evan know that I will be present for him and to watch him, too. I don't want him to cause trouble and harm my carefully built reputation. We could go out for a walk before breakfast and I will take care that we will have all of our meals together. At Hogwarts, doing the same won't be an issue. I obtained an early appointment, thanks to Narcissa, with Stricto Sensu in order to meet the potential tutors for Evan. It's important to have a schedule done before going to Hogwarts so I can test the quality of the education given to Evan. I've finally read the report of Mrs Macfarlane and I must admit I'm impressed. Evan is really advanced in maths, science and history but not so much in literary culture which is rather poor. It's essential for Evan to have a good grasp upon basic wizarding history but he will probably like it so I don't worry about this part. Some basis on common charms, transfiguration and defense will also be useful. As for Evan's lack of knowledge on literature, I feel like I can help there and use this very same time as father-son bonding time. I've always been an avid reader. Wilde, Dickens, Hugo, Austen, Lewis, Wells, Stevenson, Verne, Conan Doyle… and so much more, muggle and wizard alike. That's something that I can share with Evan and as it was necessary, it makes two issues killed with one stone.

Once back at Hogwarts, I still will have to find the right balance with all of my duties without neglecting Evan. I feel the beginning of a new headache. I have the first years meetings to do on the evenings of the first month before curfew and also the meetings with the Prefects, the office permanence, the first year tutoring lessons, the detentions, the staff meetings, the nightly patrols, the dunderheads essays and quizzes to grade, the lessons to prepare, the brewing for the hospital wings… I don't know how I will manage. And, I still must add: the factory reports and work, quality batch control, research on new formulas… Yes, that's it it. I've got a hell of a headache now. Of course, I've the right potion and soon, the pain stop. I turn to look at an Evan asleep. He breathes softly, without moving at all, curled in his bed. Like young children do. I sigh and shake my head from such stupid and useless sentimentality. I know now what I am to do. I will learn to delegate. I have two competent potionnists at the factory to whom I could raise as co-directors to manage the daily management and I know that they will gladly accept more responsabilities. They will act as a filter and give me the necessary reports. And incidentally watch and monitor each other.

And I could stagger the first years meetings every two evenings instead of every evening and after diner so that I will have some time with Evan as a father should… I think. It's so complicated. The tutoring sessions could be organized on Friday evening instead of Saturday morning so I could have my office permanence during this time, oversee detentions and grade what had to be. I could have one big monthly meeting with my snake for two hours instead of two a month and give more responsibility to my prefects. I don't want my snakes thinking I'm abandoning them so I will still have a two hours permanence on Saturday afternoon before having some time to brew. Evan will have his violin lessons and his meetings with Narcissa or Lucius at this time anyway. I will hopefully have a free Sunday for my experiments and to be with Evan if nothing else can be organized. I could spend the Sunday morning teaching him and Draco potions or going somewhere. I will surely find something not to painful to have some bonding time with Evan. We'll see.

As for the week time, Evan will be with his tutor until 4 p.m. and then, He will study his lessons and do his homework in our private quarters or he could join me in my classes if he wishes to do so as long as he doesn't disturb the class and study seriously. After the last class and before diner, he could do his violin exercise while I could busy myself with my duties. Yes, this will do, I just have to be thorough and to plan everything cautiously. Furthermore, I still could experiment and do research once Evan will be asleep, for some hours. I will have free brewing time, it's just about organization. I can do it. I will do it. I just need to keep Evan busy so he wouldn't be alone. I'm sure the Malfoys will welcome him in their midst. I still have to fix up "our" quarters for Evan. I have a spare room for my snakes and I still need it. I have an unused storeroom. I could convert the second in a spare room and the first for Evan. I lose myself in my plans and my thought. I think about covering the hard stone floor with fitted carpet or maybe wooden floor. It's really cold during winter…

It's important though.

Evan needs a new wardrobe too, something appropriate for autumn and winter weather.

So many things to do, so much things to think…

oO°Oo

Evan like fruits. Really likes. It's… amusing.

Mango, kiwi, banana, cherries, peach… And most of all: strawberries. He just loves the little red berries. I believe that, if he could, he would only feed on strawberries and oat milk. The Bed and Breakfast we stayed in is located near from a small farm which supplies the Inn on fresh local products. Here, there's no cow milk, the Inn owner – not at all intimidated by my sour and irritated air or maybe naturally resistant to it, I still have to decide – seems to be fiercely opposed to it and I had to bear – against my will – a lecture about vegetal milk against animal milk followed by the right (or obligation from my point of view) to taste oat milk, chestnut milk and spelt milk. I admit being interested. These milks seem healthier and full of the necessary minerals for Evan's growth. I'll make sure Hogwarts house elves provide some for the students or at least Evan and a less rich food as Evan confessed that he couldn't stomach it. A child who prefer steam vegetables to greasy French fries…

He's strange this boy but at least, I would have to fight with him about finishing his veggies.

No, I have to fight for him to finish his meat and his starches which, and I quote, made him feel "too full".

Poor me.

I took him to Cowes town market where I bought a full basket of strawberries to a smiling Evan. It's so simple to please him. While walking we got to a small park with child equipments like turnstiles and swings. Evan seemed hesitant between his obvious desire to go and the one to stay with me on the public bench. I encouraged him to go then, watching as he chose the swings. He sat down the small wooden seat, swaying awkwardly his legs before starting to rise. A small smile began to rise on his face. That's this smile which gives me hope, which tells me that I can make Evan happy. And maybe that I can be an acceptable father for him despite my previous thoughts. I still can't say that I love Evan as one can love its child but I've begun t accept the idea… to get used to it. However, I know that I care for him. He's a good boy, he deserves it.

But I'm worried still.

I fear somewhat Albus' reaction. I've covered our tracks but I know he has more than one trick up to his sleeve. He's probably going to try to convince me to keep my distance with Evan or to place him far away to preserve him and especially my spying position. But I'm ready and determined to keep my son and his secrets. Like the little fact that he is a parseltongue. We went to the zoo and I must admit that I couldn't fight neither how uneasy I felt nor the cold shudder which run along my spine when I heard him speaking to a reticulated python. I immediately checked that no else had noticed and took upon myself to speak about it to Evan. I made sure that he knew it was in his best interest that he keeps this… skill hidden because of its bad history in the wizarding world as its last holder was none other than the Dark Lord himself. He thought about it for a moment before nodding. I know more of Evan now and if I'me sure he will obey me, I know that he will do his own research about it later. I would have preferred that he hadn't inherited that stubbornness from me…

In order to reassure him, I still choose to tell that being a parseltongue wasn't something to be ashamed for and that I was… proud that he had such an ability as the great Salazar Slytherin once had. Which is perfectly true. After all, even if it's a little known fact (or an ignored one), Salazar had been a great healer in his time, his gift granting him to heal a great deal of diseases and affections that would have remained untreated without his help. And it probably helped him as well for creating new potions and spells. Still, I prefer for his skill to remain unknown for now for his own safety. I feel that I have been successful interesting him in the practical applications of parseltongue than its bad history but I shouldn't been surprised thinking about what we uncovered in Gringotts. Dumbledore's file grows heavier each day. I've decided to create this file just in case, if things were to turn badly and the truth about Evan were discovered. I want Evan to have some safeguards to protect him.

I won't allow him to be returned to the Dursleys.

At the end of our stay, I led Evan to a local fair. Me, in a fair. If my students ever were to see me, my reputation would be ruined… But Lily loved fairs. I let Evan do everything he wanted: the Ferris wheel, carousel, sky coaster… I really wanted to refuse to try the rifle shooting but the hopeful eyes of Evan made me fall. I won, of course. I was highly grateful when Evan chose some stuffed white owl toy instead of the huge and ridiculous pink monkey or yellow elephants in red tutus. Watching him as he tightly gripped his toy, a big smile (as big as Evan's smile could be, of course) on his face and his hand holding mine, I suddenly think of the image we're projecting with his bright eyes and his flushed cheeks as people look at us. I feel a bit… embarrassed and uneasy even if it doesn't show on my face. I still take great pleasure seeing the other yelling, screaming and even – Oh sweet Merlin! – rolling on the floor, children before their very incompetent parents because they were refused a toy, an ice-cream or else. I feel somewhat proud that at least my son knows how to behave in public.

oO°Oo

Upon our return, I decided to personally lead Evan to the little surprise on the garden and then to his newly decorated room. Narcissa must have enjoyed herself while doing the shopping to get the new furniture but the truth was that such furniture were very much needed in the room which hadn't been designed for a child and lacked the touch of a homey room. Severus had felt guilty about it and he wanted to make up for it by prompting Narcissa to spare no expense and to choose only high quality and costly materials. In the same time, it was useful to show that he really wanted Evan to be a full part of their life and the Cottage was now home for the both of them. He had let Narcissa do the work, only sending her a note about Evan's favourite colours: blue and white. Like the sky Evan loved to look at. Something that he probably hadn't had the possibility to often do at the Dursleys.

I pushed the door to discover Lady Malfoy's work.

The top had been spelled to show a spring sky over night and day, like the Great Hall of Hogwarts but less sophisticated. The floor was now covered by grey with some iridescent royal blue touches floorboards, the latter color being reproduced on the baseboards and frames of the large windows. The walls were now covered with wallpapers of shades of an iridescent gray with patterns of white feathers and royal blue celtic runes inducing peace, calm and concentration. A spell made the feathers float like under a slight breeze. The furniture had been ordered and delivered the very same day. Then, the elves had used their magic to assemble them. It had only been a matter of minutes and then, Narcissa only had to decide where to put what.

Narcissa a chosen a four poster bed in albinos ebony wood with two night stands of the same wood. The bed had royal blue hangings hung over the canopy. To this were added a desk and a comfortable chair, a large wardrobe with a chest, a loveseat and two armchairs in the same wood in Victorian style with a small glass coffee table while all the tissues from the armrests to the cushions were in royal blue crepe or velvet. The most impressing was the small private library which permitted Evan access to the main library of the Estate by summoning the required books, under the same age and level conditions as before. All together, it made a bright and soothing atmosphere.

- Do you… like it? I asked, tensed.

I wouldn't like having done all of this –and spend so much money – for nothing. Two thin arms circled me and clenched me as hard as they could. I think this meant that yes, he like it.

oO°Oo

After going back to Prince Cottage, I decided to give Evan a schedule so he wouldn't be bored all day while I'm working. I succeeded in advancing the appointment with Stricto Sensu with the support of Narcissa to tomorrow. Proserpina Sternwall didn't figure as a "friendly" person as I've met her and I knew that I wouldn't even have the privilege of an appointment without the Malfoys' support. After all, even if Albus had testified and vouched for me, I was still a reformed Death Eater. Still, I've decided that Evan would accompany me. It will be his tutor and he should have part in the choice. He had to be at ease with him or her for my peace of mind. Mrs Sternwall presented us three candidates, the only available it seems.

For us, at least.

The first one was an ex-student I had been unfortunate enough to teach, an ex-Hufflepuff of the name of Isaac Bishop who was, I recall, as lazy as unpleasant. It hadn't changed. He hadn't been bothered enough to get up to meet us. It was pretty obvious that he had chosen tutoring because he had failed to find another job and because it thought it would not be too tiring. He even dared asking to work only from Monday to Friday because he "needed" his longer week-end to rest. No, absolutely not. However, it gave us a good idea of the candidates who had yet to come.

The second one was a 45 years old housewife called Cherry Rosebloom with pink and purple with floating yellow flowers robe (Merlin! Please, save us, she had the same tailor as Albus…). She wished to go back to work as her own children had all left the nest. Her NEWTS were satisfying but she didn't seem like knowing how to prepare a program, which teaching method she wanted to use or even a lesson plan. She just said that she would take care of Evan like she would her own child, fussing all over him and clearly making him uncomfortable with her maternal and overbearing presence. As if Evan was a stuffed toy… No, just no.

Given his potential, Evan really needed someone who would guide and stimulate him intellectually. To make him reach his potential. At the moment, the candidates were all under my expectations. Really below. I didn't expect inept people with mental issues… Then, there had been Mr Strakowski. More exactly Master Sergueï Valerius Strakowski. His qualifications were far above everything : Dual Mastery in Runes and Arithmancy combined, a distinguished researcher and lecturer for the Veritas In Signo Society, he had been at the forefront of the new deciphering technique movement before abruptly disappearing twenty years ago. Nothing in his curriculum explained what he had done during this latency period.

It must be important if you could have a look at his gaunt face which reminded me more of an Azkaban prisoner than a scholar from the Russian nobility. It was more than suspicious but I wished to give him a chance as he seemed the only candidates who could meet my expectations for Evan. And I could understand the discrimination as I was often on the receiving end of it. Anyway, the one I would chose for Evan would be under a strict contract to protect Evan. If he were to refuse to sign it then I would search elsewhere. Evan came first. In the end, it would be his choice to decide if he would be comfortable enough to be left alone with his tutor.

I asked why, with such qualifications, he wanted to enter a tutoring contract. The man didn't bother with formalities and explained that he needed to earn money and time to prepare his exams as a lawyer before beginning a new career and that he had hoped to find an older student than Evan to transmit his knowledge in arithmancy and runes, maybe create a new vocation. Noticing Evan's repressed desire to ask a question, I nodded to him to allow him to do so. The boy wanted to know why age was so important to study runes and arithmancy. The Master thought about it for a moment before explaining with his rough voice tainted of a strong russian accent that these two subjects, especially when combined, needed patience and dedication and that young children didn't wish to bother with such long hours of learning and didn't have the interest to see all the possibilities it could open. I then addressed the school and test files of Evan's potential and he seemed interested. After reading some of it, he got a little mind puzzle from his pocket and gave it to Evan without saying anything.

Then, he went on his reading, asking questions from time to time.

Unbothered by the lack of attention, Evan took the puzzle with enthusiasm, surprising me as I always hated this kind of games. Lily had received a Rubik's cube for her 10th birthday and she had needed barely one hour to solve it. She then gave it to me so I could "have fun" too. I never could put the right colors together and I was so angry by Lily gently teasing that I refused to speak with her for a week. It could have been longer had Lily not come to me. Evan looked at it for long minutes, doing nothing, before he begun to turn it, push and pull the pieces in every way possible. He needed only one more minute to solve the problem but he didn't seem glad to have succeeded. He looked like… disappointed.

« I'm interested in teaching your son », Master Snape, the russian said, giving me back Evan's file.

He then turned back to the child, saying:

« I've got more to solve if you want? »

Evan shyly nodded, giving the solved puzzle back to the man who would be – it seems – his new tutor.

oO°Oo

Of course, before giving his final approval, Severus had done some investigations on the man's past. Master Strakowski came from the Russian High Nobility in the pre-revolution Russia leaded by the revolutionary group of Народная Воля or Narodnaïa Volia1. He had been raised near of the Volga, inside the thousands old Family Estate. Schooled in the famous Oath School of Riourikovitch, the elite's traditional institute of education where he got excellent results. After graduating, he decided to travel like most of his fellow friends, in order to meet and learn from different Runes and Arithmancy Masters%. He spent his time researching and developing his own theory, winning the attention of the Secretum Numerus League which earned him many commissioned works for them. He met his future pureblooded wife, Emily Caldwell, in London as he was negociating his contract with Secretum Numerus while she worked as a social lawyer. He spent the next two years in a formal courting to win her hand and obtain a formal engagement from her family who were reluctant to let their only child go to a foreigner, even if pureblood.

However, three years after their wedding and the birth of a little girl called Elena, he decided to go back to Russia where the Narodnaïa Volia was causing trouble among the aristocracy. Once back on his birth land, he assumed his duties as Count of Saratov and decided to enroll the Volkhves, the Alatyr'2 knights. The Narodnaïa Volia supporters had their eyes on the wealth and properties of the old families to « share » them properly with the People as they said. In reality, they just wanted to erase the old elite and aspiring to raise themselves above their station by manipulating and luring the gullible mass with false promises and lies. Abandoning his first passion, the Saratov Count as he was entitled, chose to become a lawyer. To restore the order, change the society and protect his own. He built alliances, established contacts and publicly advocated his opinions. Unfortunately. Betrayed by one of his close friends bribed by his opponents, his family and himself were part of a massive roundup thoroughly prepared for months. Few succeeded in escaping and didn't have a choice beside exile.

The Strakowskys had been sent to the Katorga3.

None survived but him.

Severus discovered that he had been released three months ago. All of his former assets and properties had been confiscated by the new power in place and he was welcomed in his own country anymore. They gave him an international portkey to the location of his choice with 25 wizarding rubles, the equivalent of 20 galleons. He had chosen London to find a job, hosted by one of the few who had escaped 20 years ago. He had tried to pay his respect to his family in-laws but they didn't welcome him, deeming him responsible for their daughter and grand-daughter's deaths. He had chosen to register as tutor but his statute as foreigner and his troubled past gave him little proposition. The two he had received had been declined because they didn't meet his expectations. The man was poor but proud.

Something Severus could certainly understand and respect. That's why during their second interview at Prince Cottage he had chosen to reveal some things to him. Not everything, obviously, but what was publicly known about his… involvement with the Dark Lord but about Evan's previous abuse too and that he had recently adopted him. Strakowski didn't react to my previous allegiance and he didn't ask questions about Evan's abuse, choosing to listen to what I wanted to share with him. Then, he thoroughly read the contract I had my lawyer prepare for him, not even raising an eyebrow to the strict confidentiality and protections clauses. Then, he just signed it.

The lessons began the very next day.

oO°Oo

Severus admitted being surprised by Evan's ability to focus when he really was interested. He could stay before a problem for hours, frowning, twisting it over and over. That's why he liked to teach him chess. It was a quiet game that held a high place in Severus' book as it helped with patience, logic and strategy. Playing chess with Evan was surprisingly good, guiding him in his moves, helping him anticipating and using the different possibilities of the game… Of course, he always won but playing chess was part of a new evening ritual, some father-son bonding time that he decided to work out before Evan's bedtime so he could get back to his lab after. It wasn't easy for the both of them, but they managed somewhat. They talked about Severus work and research, of Hogwarts and his snakes. About Lily, too. It had been hard but he wanted Evan to know the wonderful woman that Lily Evans had been to him. It was his redemption he was seeking this way by talking about her to her son. He didn't talk about her flaws as there was none in his eyes. Of James Potter, he couldn't yet bring himself to talk. He knew he wouldn't be able to tell Evan a good thing about him and didn't want to charge the deceased. He wouldn't do that because as much as he had hated the man, this very man had died to protect his wife and his son, fighting even when he knew he wouldn't survive.

He would talk about him. Later.

He wasn't ready yet.

Sometimes, when he felt like doing something else, he would bring Evan to the library where he could introduce him to a ritual he had shared with Lily: reading by taking turns. They had begun with a classic: 20000 leagues under the seas. It was nice. They didn't read for long, no more than one hour, just to relax a bit. After dillydallying a bit, Evan dared asking sitting against Severus. He leaned his head against Severus' chest and… well, even if it had been uncomfortable at first, now he could say that he was getting… used to it. Evan seemed to crave for more and more affectionate gestures, becoming touchy, searching his eyes, his hands. Severus resigned himself to share his private space and endured it quietly, fighting his own unease. Evan needed it and that was all he had to know. They were progressing nicely, speaking more freely, during meals mostly as Severus was always present for them. The topics turned mostly about Hogwarts, Evan's studies and the Potions Master tried to get the boy to ask questions and to do his best by nursing a healthy curiosity. The boy was intelligent and he wouldn't let it be wasted. Evan if his short attention span had been hard to manage at first.

It had certainly made his tutoring difficult.

It had been Strakowski that had uncovered it. Quickly. Of course, they had believed that Evan was distracted and didn't pay enough attention and as it slowed his learning, Severus had to make it clear to Evan that he was to take his lessons seriously and that he would be greatly disappointed if he didn't study diligently and apply himself. His eyes tearful, Evan had promised. But he didn't succeed and Severus had to punish him, making him write lines with a quill, which he knew the boy hated with a passion but he couldn't let it go. "I am to apply myself, to pay attention to my learning and to respect the time that is given for my education". Evan didn't even object and did his lines even as he abhorred the task. Education was a priority and to Severus, it was necessary that Evan was aware of it. He wanted Evan to have a choice about what he would do later and he wouldn't let him waste his potential because of what he saw as laziness. He could be lax about some things but on this, he wouldn't. How he had blamed himself thereafter…

Strakowski had been the one to dig up to solve the issue. By simply asking.

Truth be told, it wasn't that Evan didn't pay attention or wasn't interested but the exact opposite. He just couldn't help mulling over the things he was lectured about during his lessons. His mind just stopped focusing on the lessons to think about some point or question in particular and forgetting all about listening to what was being said. He couldn't help himself and didn't know how to not do it. Strakowski had questioned him to know exactly how Evan's mind worked. Ashamed, Evan confided that he felt he needed to follow the train of his thought because if he didn't, he would forget about it and frustrate himself. Furthermore, he wasn't used to be forced in attentiveness as his former teachers didn't care n if he listened or not. Usually, as he understood the key point of the lessons quickly he had gotten used to let his mind wandered to keep himself busy. In one to one tutoring, it couldn't work. To add to his problem, Evan was used to study by himself whatever caught his fancy, studying what he wanted when he wanted for as long as he wanted. He didn't have good study habit. And so, his tutor chose to create methods to avoid frustration and make sure that he would pay attention in his lessons.

And he did it in 24 hour time.

Impressing.

He gave Evan a second notebook beside his first one so he could immediately note down his idea or question with one or two key word so he wouldn't forget about it before turning his attention back to his lesson. As for the program, Severus was pleased with Strakowski's and his teaching methods to handle Evan. To make it short, Evan was to prepare his lessons in advance so he could participate in them by asking questions, debating over some point and generally speaking, having an active role. Strakowski believed that Evan needed another way of learning and if not, he would just give up and do the bare minimum and that just wouldn't do. Now, he was pleased with his own progress and the direction of his studies. The more they advanced depended of Evan only and the one to one attention was good to him while his tutor was preparing him for joining normal classes too. He was learning more than usual but Severus trusted Strakowski's instincts with this. Evan was taught the basics for Charms, History of Magic, Transfiguration but foreign languages too. Latin and French with Narcissa and Russian and Greek with his tutor as he was receptive to the foreign languages charm.

Beside, Severus wanted Evan to still study some muggle subjects like science, mathematics and economy. It gave the boy a full schedule but many breaks were planed and as long as Evan seemed comfortable with his timetable… They were up at the same time in the morning and went outside for a walk before coming back for breakfast at 8 a.m. Then, Evan would go join his tutor for his lessons while he went to his lab or his study desk until noon. They ate together without Strakowski whom preferred eating outside while it was still possible to him, before Hogwarts. Then, back to study for Evan and research for Severus. At 4 p.m., Evan was to take a snack before practicing his violin (he had to put a silencing charm on Evan's room because of the horrible screeching of the poor agonizing creature there…which could be heard everywhere in the house, even down in the lab). After then, Evan would join him in his lab with a book, play outside, prepare his lessons or do some homework in the lab (Severus had created a little alcove for him) or go to Draco's to play (around three to four times a week).

Yes, everything was nicely going on.

oO°Oo

The Master's voice rolled as he explained the key point of their first lesson:

« The word "Rune" means "secret" or "mystery" on his own and as a symbol. Runic language has been designed for everyday use but their most important function was magical. Beside what the west Europe thinks, runes are not limited to Furthark or hieroglyphs. Any kind of symbolic script designed for magical rituals and invocations are runic system. Obviously, the simple minded won't understand why learning so different system is interesting as it needs long and taxing hours of learning before it can be of use but the real scholar who want to learn, this one knows that each system has its own set of rules and power, its own subtleties and properties… »

The man stopped pacing to look at his student, as if to size him up.

« Learning each symbol is the first step, then you need to have a deep understanding of their meaning, the obvious one and the hidden one. The essential rule is that no system is frozen because of arithmancy. An isolated rune is like a fire without wood, it would burn out before really existing. But, if you know how combined them by following the rules of their runic system and their own rules, then everything is possible… »

The boy's eyes were shining with this bright flame that had been his own once. He held back a smile. Now came the long and fastidious hours of learning the basics. To draw correctly a rune, its meaning, to identify the roots of its system and define its properties and rules while indentifying its arithmancy was complicated and mostly boring at first. It would be the real test for Evan. If the boy was to grow tired of it, the Snapes would have to find another tutor. He always had wanted an apprentice but never had the opportunity. Now, he felt old and used. He wanted to study law and obtain his licence in Great Britain so he could at least follow Emily's dream for her. To make things better, protect the weaks and the innocents. To make the difference.

To honor her memory.

But he wanted to bequeath his knowledge, his experience and discoveries too. He never would have imagined doing it to a child who barely reached his chest. However, the kid had something, this little something that he wanted to see. He had given him the jigsaw and read his file but t had been the boy's face when he had solved the problem that had convinced him. An interest not in solving but in researching how to solve the problem. Solving wasn't the end and it made all the difference. As for the doubtful reputation of the father or the child previous abusive environment, it didn't change anything. He wasn't a saint himself.

He had just to wait and see. He went on :

« Now you will learn the first meaning of the Tripoli numeric alphabet and the two first runes of the Old Furthark. Yteaching method, as you will soon learn, is that learning is unworthy if you don't understand what you learn. To this end, I want you to question, object systematically every knowledge. I want you to be well educated as in able to think by yourself, logically and out of the traditional way everyone follow. I don't want a stupid follower but a challenger. Next time, I expect an essay about "why the runes and arithmancy?" because if you can't answer this then we are both wasting time. »

And the flame was still there.

oO°Oo

Draco loudly stamped his foot on the floor, impatient. Sunday had been endless. The potions lessons which were usually only between Uncle Sev and him was now to be shared with Evan and, even if I was happy t first, it had been really annoying in the end. Uncle Sev couldn't help but stayed with Evan most of the time to guide his hand, to show him how to slice, chop or dice the ingredients and why. He even praised him for correctly extracting juice from the perly caterpillar when I, who had done it perfectly too… nothing. It wasn't fair! So, I waited for them to have their back turned to throw a pew-slug in Evan's cauldron. The unavoidable happened and soon, the cauldron began to spread a foul-smelling smoke around the room. Uncle Sev was cross but said nothing to Evan. He just vanished the smolke and cast a freshening charm on us. It wasn't fair! Had it been me, I would have been lectured for hours! Of course, I wouldn't have done such a mistake but… still! I pout a bit even if I would deny it until my ultimately death.

A Malfoy doesn't pout.

Then, I offered to Evan to go flying with me and, under my parents' and Uncle Sev' supervision, we finally had been allowed to go to the Quidditch pitch. Of course, I had to explain once more the basics of Flying as I let him borrow my old broom and I thought that I would have to spend all my time correcting him and showing him how to do it but I don't mind sharing my knowledge. I'm proud of it. However, once he had risen on the sky, he was as much at ease as I was, better even when I've flown for years! We did a race and he won when my broom was better than his! Of course, everyone praised and applauded him while I was lectured about my attempt and almost succeed of the Wronski feint (I've just fallen from 2 feet, not big deal there…)! It wasn't fair!

For tea time, I really wanted blueberry muffins but of course, it'not me that had been asked. Evan had chosen strawberries. Just strawberries. Mother had still asked for some biscuits and whipped cream with them and I've been scolded when I asked for what I wanted. The elves are there for that, aren't they? As if it hadn't been enough, after the snack, I went to my room with Evan and I've surprised him with my favorite set of colored pencils. The ones hat change color when asked to. Enough was enough. I tore them from his hands, yelling:

« Get off! It's mine, you mudblood ! »

Evan froze, a hurt expression painted on his face, reminded me suddenly of the night when he confided in me. This night where I promised… Then, his face blanked. His voice, cold and quiet, spoke:

« I apologize. I believed we were friends. Obviously, I was wrong. »

And just like that, he left. In a fit of rage, I threw the pencils through the room. Then, I became very aware of a thing. The silence. It calmed me. He will go back, won't he ? He knew that I didn't think what I said. Not really. Not totally, at least. It's just… I was angry, I didn't thought it was that bad. He won't hold a grudge for this tiny little thing, will he? He's my friend after all. Yes, he will come back anyway.

He will be back, won't he?

oO°Oo

I've waited all week but Evan hadn't come back. He had given me a gift from his holydays with Uncle Sev. I still hadn't opened it. I don't know why. And,I'm bored too. With Evan, there's always something to do but alone… Playing Bubble Riddle_ alone_ isn't funny and drawing _alone_ is boring. And there is no one to listen to me. Evan used to listen to what I had to say. But I won't apologize. A Malfoy doesn't apologize. And, it's true that he's a mudblood. He should have been happy to be accepted to the Manor and to be blessed with my friendship. Still… I'm bored. Mother tried to make me talk about it so I told her: It's all of Evan's fault. Mother had sent me a look… disappointed. I hate it when she does that, it makes me feel miserable. Since then, I wait. Evan will be bored too and soon, he will come back to me. He still comes on Saturday for his lessons with mother. I made a face. I'm not allowed to participate. The sides of my mouth went up as I thought… I've got an idea.

I just will have to… not get caught.

oO°Oo

Saturday has come. I wait for Evan to enter the Music Room (I shudder, bad memories there) before I sneak up. I don't even try to open the door, it's too much of a basic technique. I will use the house elves passageways. They are narrow but perfect for spying…errr… listening Evan and mother conversation. I'm sure that mother will use the opportunity to defend my case and force Evan to apologize. I stop before what I know is the fireplace hearth. I gently push a small brick which open slightly the passage used by the elves to clean the hearth without dirtying the room. Fortunately for me, it's summer and there isn't a fire in it. As it's not connected to the floo network, no one will be the wiser I was there. Everything is gonna be alright!

I strain my ear to listen to what is being said.

oO°Oo

« Good afternoon, Evan. How was your lesson with Mr Trendell? », Narcissa gently asked while letting her protégé sitting down on the sofa before her.

She offered him to take something from the tray where were put pumpking juice, fresh milk, ginseng or green tea, French biscuits and a full basket of fresh strawberries. She smiled slightly as he chose the milk and the strawberries. It seemed like he had gotten a real taste for the little red berries. She concentrated on his pupil's answer whom seemed still tensed and reserved. She could just hope it would lessen given enough time.

« It went well. I must work my position and the accuracy of my first two notes and a music theory exercise for the next lesson », he simply said.

« I'm glad you like it but remember that you will have to be patient and work hard before playing interesting pieces », she advised.

« I know. I will work hard », he promised. « Can I ask you a question? »

« It's "May I ask a question ?" and yes, you may », she gently corrected.

« What's the difference between purebloods, half-bloods and muggleborns? », he bluntly asked.

« Is this about you and Draco's argument? », she delicately pressed.

« Yes and no », he quietly answered, thoughtful about how approach the subject with his new godmother. « I was, of course, hurt by Draco's words but, in the same time, I thought about what Mr Strakowski said about the way you have to consider a problem. You must question it and never reject a hypothesis just because it doesn't please you or oppose your theory so I would like to know more about it. What are its roots? Is the blood purity theory justified? »

Narcissi was surprised by the way the child was putting his argument and much more probably because it was the first time he spoke to her so much. And asking her questions, as delicate as they were, pleased her. However, the matter was quite difficult and she had to be as neutral as possible:

« Well. I will try to answer your question but it's a large subject, you know. I can only tell you what I know and what is the most common admitted in the pureblooded community and, even if I somewhat share this opinion, I want you to know that it doesn't change my affection for you or the way I consider you. I don't have all the answers so, what I suggest is that I will try to summarize said issue and then, I will let you in our family library to make your own research if you want to », she offered.

Evan nodded and she couldn't help but wonder about how attentive he was about a subject so sensitive that most would be at least offended.

« Purebloods are witches and wizards whose ancestry is fully magical or has been fully magical for centuries, even thousands years. Officially, a family is considered pureblooded with at least seven magical ancestors. Purebloods is mostly composed by families who support and protect our magical inheritance. Our customs, knowledge and our history has been forged by these families who made an oath to protect the members of the magical society in a time where we were hunted and burnt at the stake like animals. It was before the flame freezing charm which save many of us but too late for many community had protected our world from the muggles by organizing our society. The wizenmagot – under another name, of course – is a creation from these dark times in order to take the decisions to lead our people toward the future. Even today, we have to fight but to keep our place and influence to preserve our way of life which is often viewed as resistance to change and opposition to progress but what progress it is when one deny our inheritance, our culture and stop honoring Magic? », she passionately explained.

Te child nodded, taking notes as she went on:

« Half-bloods are particular, coming from both the muggle and magical world. In fact, it depends if they connect to and want to be part of their magical inheritance or if they prefer to enhance their muggle one, renouncing to be part of our community. Alas, more often than not they prefer the muggle traditions to ours and try to replace them and most of the time they didn't even put the effort in knowing our ways they condemn as archaic and even dangerous because of their ignorance. Furthermore, it's sad to say that we are fewer than they are and since the last decades, they took more and more place in our political and economical system and we pained to restrain their influence, even in the Wizenmagot. »

Lady Narcissa took a sip of her tea before going on:

« As for the muggleborns… just their name is part of the problem. They enter our world without previous knowledge of magic and like the half-bloods, they judge our customs with their muggle knowledge and views and try to "modernize" our society by replacing what they don't understand by they own customs. And most of us who see the "new blood" like a good thing tries to make them feel comfortable, "banishing the old to welcome the new" as they said. We don't celebrate Yule anymore but Christmas and many of our customs are to be celebrated quietly because they are frown upon. Now we do it secretly and only in the family private circle when once it was the way to be united, to make one with magic, to exchange and share the feeling to be part of something so great that it left you so warm. Back, you knew what belong meant. Muggleborns threatens this, they are dangerous and the statute of secrecy is often breach with them. No one really punish them or make sure that they won't reveal us to their family and then, their family's friends and then… It will be our end but only purebloods know that. And that's why they are hated and rejected », she quietly stated, a bit taken aback by her own vehemence.

Evan had his eyes on his now blackened notebook, finishing writing something before raising his eyes on her.

« Thank you Mrs Malf… sorry, Aunt Narcissa », he quickly corrected.

« I will lead you to the library after our lesson and don't forget that I'm there if you have another question », she reminded him with a smile.

« Thank you», Evan politely replied.

Narcissa smiled.

« Good. Now, this lesson subject will be about appearance, Lady Malfoy seriously began. It's not only about the way you will greet people but also about your social status and identity in society. To this means you have to take care about what you wear, how you wear it but the words and tone you will employ considering the kind of people you meet and the circonstances of said meeting, planned or not, formal or not. It's an essential step, especially on a first meeting. This is why…»

oO°Oo

After that, Draco stopped spying…. Err… listening.

He was disappointed. His mother had only slightly broached the subject of his argument with Evan and didn't asked him to apologize. After all, what was it to search for? The mudbloods were inferiors and that was it. They believe everything is theirs and want to change everything to their taste as if they knew better than us. Evan had just to acknowledge that he was inferior to me and everything would be okay. He shut the passage and returned to his bedroom without being noticed. He ignored his history of magic essay that was unfinished and due for next Monday. He wanted Evan to be back. His friend was always attentive to what he said and he had always felt important in his eyes. And then, he had promised. This night, he had promised to himself to protect Evan as if he was his brother. But he had been the one to hurt him.

Draco knew it.

For the first time, Draco thought that maybe it wasn't so important that Evan wasn't a pureblood himself. After all, as his mother explained to Evan, he tried to learn more about his magical inheritance, our customs and ways. He worked hard for that. Furthermore, his own father said it was important to get powerful alliances on which one could get support if needed. And, if he were to be honest with himself, he hadn't exactly been nice with Evan and, maybe, he had been a bit jealous about the attention he had received. Pureblood or not, Evan was like the little brother he had always wanted. And Uncle Sev was a half-blood too but he is the youngest and most talented potions Master since only Merlin knows when. And father said he is an excellent duelist too. Father is a pureblood and he is friend with him. He felt remorseful now. Evan didn't do anything against him. He had saved his life and had confided in him. Instead of encouraging him and guiding him like he had promised, he had belittled him because of something stupid. Would Evan still want to be his friend?

How could he be forgiven?

oO°Oo

« To understand and learn a subject, no matter which, one must question it: who or what, how, why, when and where? With all of the possible subtleties, of course. As an example, if I say: The levitation charm. What would you say? How will you broach your subject the most extensively? »

The boy thought about it before answering:

« What is the levitation charm? What is its incantation ? What is or are the wand movements necessary to cast it? Who had invented it? When had it been invented ? In which context ? Why had it been created ? What are its uses ? And… err… Is there a runic and arithmantic system which could substitute it? If yes, how? »

Strakowski nodded, satisfied. It still lacked some finer point and method but the key point was there.

« Very good, Evan », he soberly praised, his accent making him roll the "r". « Now, to answer these questions, we must do research but we have to use a method. Each source is to be questioned. The author may have chosen to use his or her work to spread his or her opinion for personal reasons like the political context, their personal history or just to create a scandal on which they hope to gain support to raise themselves above the mass. Or simply to oppose the power in place. This being said, we must try to gather as much different sources as possible, debated or not, from different time periods and from authors from varied social status. This won't give you any certainty but it will be enough to form an independent opinion. I don't want to teach to a book regurgitation machine but to a being able to think by himself who will contest to what I have to say if he has arguments and a logic to support it. »

Then, the child adopted this look he get when he had an idea of his ad went to note it down on his notebook. I must admit I didn't expect for my idea to work. Two notebooks. One for his lessons and the other for questions, ideas and research. The fact that the boy was ambidextrous was a bonus. I went on:

« I am an adept of the Dialectical method but I am too a strong advocate of the rhetoric one because if the content is essential, the form is the way you will use to your path of transmitting the information. »

Left notebook, once again. I didn't explain the words "dialectic" or "rhetoric". I expect him to do the appropriate research alone. Or for him to dare asking. Not a talkative one, the little guy.

« As such, in all of the exercise I will give you, I expect to see answers to you questions, argument to support your reasoning in a well flowing demonstration but short and coherent. I will never impose how long your essays are to be as it is also in this that you will prove that you have mastered the subject. However, know that if I consider your work to be of an inferior quality, you will have to do it again with the added new work, is that clear? »

The boy firmly nodded, prompting me to continue:

« Now that we have the basics, the point of this lesson will be to review the runes Fehū and Urūz, to compare them and thinking how they could combine and to which arithmantical sequence they can be associated and why? »

And the lesson resumed.

oO°Oo

Outside of his tutoring with Strakowski, I wanted Evan to become familiar with his assets and properties and that was the reason his Fridays were busy with a goblin tutor called Goldengrip. He had another one at first but it had been change after the first lesson. I don't know the details but as long as the job is done… Evan seemed to like learning about economy and that's good but probably something I will never understand. Maybe because of the dry way the goblins present it. As for what Evan told me about it, he was to learn exactly what he have from the full review of his assets to the last stone in his properties while studying how the manage each of them to make more money and appropriate investments in short or long term.

I admit having switch off.

That's the reason all my business management is done by the goblins. This is one of the reason I'm confident Evan and Lucius will bond over this kind of thing. Lucius had in mind to take Evan in an outing at the Ministry to visit the different departments. Strakowski will accompany them, obviously. As long as Lucius need his mind healer sessions, I won't let him alone with Evan. He has in mind to take Evan in an outing once a month and the next Saturday to talk with him and Narcissa about the Wizenmagot work and history, how the laws are created and voted, his futures duties as a Lord, the necessary alliances to make and the ones to avoid and all those things I was fortunate enough to avoid. The only thing Lucius won't know is about Evan's vault content and portfolios.

For obvious reasons.

While visiting the Potter vault in Gringotts, we have found things that I wouldn't have liked for Lucius to see. But I was pleased that I could get them for Evan. We got them on the day I ordered Evan a full new autumn and winter wardrobe for Hogwarts. Scarves, gloves, socks, pants, pullovers, tee-shirts, robes and cloaks, all warm and comfortable. Everything needed and maybe a few more but it didn't matter. Evan will never be lacking anything with me, I've promised it to myself. After that, I decided it would be interesting for Evan to see his vault and maybe retrieve something. And what a treasure did we find there. The personal effects of Lily and his husband from Godric's Hollow. Clothes, tableware, some furniture… Lily and James' wands. Their wedding bands. Lily's diary. A book, probably written by James, titled "A Marauder's guide". And photo albums. Five precious albums that we brought home to look at them properly. I wanted to look at them. I have so few memories of Lily.

There are three full albums before Hogwarts of James with his parents, Harold and Melusine, and various members of his family like his uncle Charlus and his wife, Dorea née Black. Baby James, then child and teenage James. It's obvious he had been cherished and spoiled. These albums don't interest me but I don't press Evan. I respect his desire to know his former father even if it makes me feel strange thinking that I know replace James Potter as his son's father figure. Soon, we find an album made by Lily when at Hogwarts. At first, there are many photos of us, of her with her friends. It still hurt to see her during what had been the happiest years I had despite my father's abuse and the Marauders bullying. It's strange to share such private memories with her son now mine. Lily had added her touch to her album with little comments, some essays she was proud of, her OWLs and NEWTs results. The photos of the both of us get rarer and rarer the further we progressed in the album until they disappeared totally at the end of our fifth year. How I regret it. A little hand came above mine while the other close the album without saying anything. He chose to open the last one. Evan is an incredibly sensitive and intuitive child.

Too much sometimes. I don't like how he can read me so well.

The last album is about Lily and James' wedding, their life as a young couple, their first apartment near Diagon Alley and then Godric's Hollow. The come and go of their friends… Lily's pregnancy, little Harry first photos and the joy of parenthood. Lily words relates to their everyday life. The little and the big events : the first smile, a disgusted James after trying to change Harry's nappy the muggle way before a triumphing Lily, the first laugh, one James covered by baby mashed potatoes with a crying Harry in his arms, the first baby tooth, the first step, James and baby Harry on a broom with an angry Lily behind them, the first word… It's too much and I pull Evan against me. I know he needs it before this very proof of how much they loved him. He gently traced his parents smiling figures as they smile with him in their arms. It's probably one of the last photos and a good testimony that they willingly choose to die so he could survive. Because he was the most important person for them.

I feel the weight of Lily trust on my shoulders. I don't know if I'm good enough but…

… I will continue to try.

oO°Oo

I've come after my morning lessons by using the floo. Evan and Uncle Sev will leave tomorrow for Hogwarts and I really want to patch things up with Evan before his departure. I want my friend, my little brother, back. I found him in the room my mother designed for him. He is at his desk, doing writing exercises. I don't know if he is so concentrated on his task that he hadn't heard me enter or if chose to deliberately ignore me. He doesn't hold a traditional quill but a feather with a funny metallic tip. It seems studier than , it doesn't seem to help him. His letters are irregular – illegible for the most – and there are many ink stains everywhere. It's not readable but it doesn't seem to discourage him judging by the many full parchments laying around him. I remember how I've found these exercises boring and dreadful so I decide to help him and pleading my case without actually having to apologize.

« You shouldn't hold it like that », I began, softly.

He turns to stare at me with his piercing eyes. I feel ill at ease but I won't flee. I move near him and seize his hand to reposition the pen and change the angle on the page.

« Try again. You'll see… it's easier that way. »

He stared at me for a minute before hesitantly drawing a letter. It's still not perfect but it's far better than before. However, as he looks at me once again, I know it won't be enough. His eyes are sad and they don't trust me anymore. They fear being betrayed once more and, even if know I can be selfish and sometimes mean, I want a friend. I don't want to be alone again. And I want Evan to be this friend because he's a great friend. He's always okay to play and to listen me talk about what he doesn't know about the wizarding world and about others things too. He's intelligent and it's easy to speak to him. There are so many things I don't know about him and that I'd like to know. Evan is so small and pale and… frail. Not weak, no. He isn't.

When he doesn't like something or doesn't want to do something, he tells me and he can be pretty stubborn. But he never had been cruel or even unkind with me. And he doesn't lie. It's a very serious matter to him. He said it's a promise he'd made to his father – it's mad in my book – and that he won't break it. He's like that, Evan. I'm not as good as I've made only one promise and I've already broken it. And it was the "important thing" kind. I wanted to protect Evan, to be a good big brother but I'm the one who hurt him in the end. Evan trusted me and even I knew how important it was because, beside Uncle Sev, he doesn't trust anyone. I was proud to have his trust. I've spoil it.

And he smiled to me. He doesn't smile often, Evan, and never for long. But with m, he was enough at ease to do it. I was important in his eyes not because I'm a Malfoy but because of me, Draco. I rarely feel guilty – if at all – usually. I deny until the very end and I can admit doing everything I can to make my parents life impossible when they choose to punish me until they cancel the punishment. But here, I've done something really wrong and I want to fix it. I hurt him because I was – maybe – slightly jealous. It's ridiculous and a Malfoy never is.I want to care for Evan and protect him, and making him smile. Maybe even I took upon myself to research the old family parchments and I found The thing I need. The Malfoy Friendship Oath to prove how serious I am. It's not dangerous or really binding – my parents would kill me otherwise – but it's official at least. I took a deep breath:

« I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, Heir of the Malfoys line, swear on my good faith and the strength of my will that I want to keep Evan Severus Snape to my side as a friend of my line and to offer him the protection and support of my family should the need arise if he agree to these terms, so mote it be. »

I wait for his answer, forgetting how to breathe. It's more of a simple statement but still I make clear that I want our friendship to last. I don't know what I would do if he refuse…

« So mote it be. »

I remember how to breathe and… I don't know but I feel like I must add something:

« I want to be your friend. »

I look at the small smile Evan is now giving me.

« You are. You just need to practice and to drop your… emphatic side. »

My offended dignity kicks in. I cross my arms, raise my chin as a sign of my righteous wrath as he goes on:

«You know, a "sorry" would have worked the same », he said, amused.

I copy my most Malfoying face and state, in the most snobbish and arrogant way possible:

« A Malfoy never apologizes. He's above such a trivial thing. »

Evan softly laughed. It's the first time I've heard him laugh. I'm happy and begin laughing too. I made him laugh. I'm so relieved to know that everything is once again okay between us. Once we are calmed, he says:

« I missed you too. »

It warms me to know that I was missed. I smile before asking the question which really puzzle me:

« What does "emphatic" means? »

Evan blows in full laughter.

* * *

><p>1 It means « Will of the People ».<p>

2 In the russian folklore, the Alatyr' was the « father of all stones » which possessed magical power like healing. On the Alatyr' the World Tree grows. The Volkhves were supposed having supernatural powers which I found fitting for wizards and witches, don't you think ?

3 It's a russian saying which can be translated as « prison » whih was part of the imperial system for the criminal convicted. It comes from the greek "katorgon" meaning "galleys ». The prisoners were sent in far away camps, located in large inhabited lands in Siberia and Eastern Russiawhere they worked like slaves. Kind like Azkaban without the Dementors if you want.

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><p><strong>Liked it? You know what to do! I will answer you. Takes time, that's all.<strong>

**Thank you to the ones who support me.**


	10. Step by Step

Hi everyone!

I first must thank you all of those you had reviewed, I answered you all by PM or, for the anonymous, on my profile page. It warms me that you like this story and I hope you will like this new chapter.

Some of you said that they didn't like me using the first person in the narration so I had to make the change, that's why I'm late. Still, have a nice reading.

As I was inspired during last week, you will have two more chazpters before the end of the transition...

Disclaimer : As it is chapter 10, you should know by now that I still don't own HArry Potter or any characters created by J.K. Rowling. I'm just playing with them and don't hope to make money with this.

**Enjoy!**

**Note : I apologize to the first readers of this chapter, it was not the right version. the correct one is now there... Thank you to StEmpois who had noticed first.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

**Step by Step**

* * *

><p>That's it. Today, they were going to Hogwarts. The elves made the packages and Severus personally checked that Evan's winter wardrobe had correctly been packed. He insisted that Evan had everything he could need to brave the rough Scotland winter. Then, they used the floo network to go to Hogsmead. The Potions Master could have floo to his quarters in Hogwarts directly but he wanted Evan to see the view of the castle from the outside. His small hand was laced with his as Severus guided him through the forest and paid attention so the boy wouldn't fall and stay on the path. It has been two weeks since they had come back from their small holidays. They now had an established routine and Evan seems to be used to it. He liked his lessons with his tutor and, as Strakowski has still to hand him his resignation, it must be mutual.<p>

He was relieved that they could solve Evan's educational issues concerning his lack of attention. Even as strict and austere (which were qualities in Severus' book) as he is, Strakowski was a good teacher and he knew how to bend his program to Evan's needs. He brought to his attention that Evan was definitely interested in runes and arithmancy studies but, given his mathematics tests results, it didn't surprise him that much. He used the opportunity of again one another outing in Diagon Alley to do his yearly order at the apothecary and to go for a walk with Evan. He might even have entered – he shuddered in remembrance – in the nightmare of every parent: a toy shop. His tolerance still had a limited range: he would never put a foot in "Magical Little Devil", "Catch the Snitch" or Merlin forbid: "One Proud Griffin". However, he found… bearable to go to "Little Merlin".

No multicolored forefront and a sober display in the window. Perfect. And they got a large collection of jigsaw puzzles and mind-games. Evan didn't touch anything or ask for something. He was happy to just look. Maybe that's why he tried to spoil him a bit. Firstly, because he needed to acquire some things and then, he could admit it pleased him to buy Evan things that he never had himself as a child. He bought him a huge selection of mind puzzle, jigsaw and even a big 3D Hogwarts model. Evan kept smiling to him for hours after that. He doesn't embarrass the Potions Master with shows of public affection; he knew that he didn't feel comfortable with them. He certainly didn't want people to think that he'd softened. He only did try for Evan. That's why he used the occasion to buy some things without Evan knowing. He'd asked the house elves to install one at the Cottage and the other in the little secret garden he had at Hogwarts. It was isolated and no one could – to his knowledge – view it from the castle. He made lilies grow there. Now there was a little swing too.

The other one was at the Cottage.

It would help Evan feel at home. He also arranged their quarters and Evan's room to fit the ones they had back at the Cottage so they would be as comfortable. The child said he felt safe back there. And he liked being outside in order to watch the sky. He thought he must have been locked up a lot at the Dursleys. It's those little things he lets escape sometimes that makes him wonder how far they had gone with the child. He'd spelled fake windows with view on the lake or the hear mountains. The first one was in his bedroom and the other one in the living-room. The dungeons were inconvenient in that they lacked of natural light so these fake windows should make them more... welcoming. He'd adjusted his schedule to have some free time for Evan. He'd also named to co-directors for his factory and gave them detailed directives. He would let them 6 months to prove their worthiness and they will have to send him weekly reports on their activities.

He also thought about the sorting of his duties as a professor, Head of House and Potions Master. It had been easier than he thought. He was glad that Evan has such a strong friendship with Draco. He knew that they had undergone through some straining and that it had somewhat hurt Evan but as he learnt about the reason behind, well… What could he have done? As much as he would like to, he couldn't protect him from this kind of things. They had fortunately made up before our departure and he was thrilled for the boy as Draco was the only one who could make Evan more open, more childlike. And he feared that he would be the only one. Evan was still a shy and reserved child. He could see it with how he would act outside of his trusted circle. He was part of it and Draco's too but others like Lucius and Narcissa would just see a polite face. Others just looked at a blank face.

He hoped that, with enough time, and if he was to fulfill his duty as he had to, Evan will stop to be constantly on his guard. Well, except with Albus, of course. He had to admit being nervous but he had well covered his tracks and the golem was perfect in his stand. He would wait for one more month before cutting the link between it and Evan. Albus was knowledgeable but even he wasn't privy on Dark Magic secrets'. And if one didn't exactly know how to proceed, nothing would uncover the trick. In the eyes of everyone, Harry Potter's golem would be an all flesh and blood being, a perfect replica of the original that could bleed, eat, drink and even had a magical core fed by Evan.

A little pressure on his hand made him alert once again. The trip between Hogsmeade and Hogwarts was short and they were almost there by the view of the nearest lake. His look fell on Evan and he raised an eyebrow in order to allow him to ask his question.

« Will my tree be able to stand the absence of my magic to feed him during our absence? »

He sighed, a bit amused. He'd initiated Evan to a Prince tradition: having one's own tree. If the Black chose to name of their children after stars, the Princes had made customary to plant a tree to celebrate their heir births. He thought it important for Evan to be part of this tradition. Of course, they didn't choose any tree. As Evan was born on the 31st of July, his tree was a rowan tree[1] as the Magical Celtic Calendar put it. They went together at Dobbies Garden World, in Aberdeen, a muggle gardening shop where they could easily find what they seek. He let him choose the tree by himself in the nine years old trees' section and they decided together where to install it in order to have perfect growth conditions.

He then proceeded to bond the tree and the child. He had explained that the tree's health would depend on his human alter ego but from a ritual to gift the tree some magic on special dates of celebrations. He, too had had his tree before a drunken Tobias fell on it, breaking the young tree under his weight when he was six. His mother didn't bother to plant another one. As if it wasn't that important. Maybe it wasn't important enough to her. After all, she did turn her back on her magical inheritance. However, she still had wanted to teach him the purebloods way, to brew (secretly, of course) potions and to make sure he would speak correctly by making him learn words from the dictionary to improve his speech. Eileen Prince Snape was weak minded, full of her own contradictions and misplaced pride which prevented her to leave Tobias just because she wouldn't let her parents win. At his own expense. He avoided questions upon his own tree, saying that he didn't grow at the Cottage. Which was true. He turned back to the child whose eyes were filled with worry. He knew they wouldn't go back to fulfill all the dates on the calendar.

« Winter and Summer Solstice will be enough for its growth, don't worry. »

The child nodded and they went on their silent walk until they reached the forest edge. There, they paused a moment so Evan could have a proper look to the view before them. He discretely reached for his camera which never left his pockets and immortalize the boy's widened eyes in wonder. The photo album he gifted the boy during their holidays was now full. They needed another one, a magical one this time to have almost an unlimited number of pages. Evan had asked him to frame one of the rare photo they were both on. He had put it on his bedside table. He supposed it was… a good thing even if it made him wince at the sight. The ones of Lily and James were hidden with the photo albums they brought back from Gringotts, in one of his desk's drawers, under a complicated blood spell, to avoid suspicion. He would have preferred for Evan to have them with him whenever he liked but couldn't do anything about it.

« Do you like it? », he asked.

« It's… big », the child answered, his eyes shining with amusement on his closed face.

He was nervous but didn't want to show it. When he was like this, Severus was strongly reminded of himself at the same age. They went on towards the entrance and then, to our quarters, giving him markers and hints to make sure he wouldn't get lost. He wouldn't be alone of course but, as Strakowski had never put a foot in Hogwarts before, it would be useful for Evan to know his way around. Entering his – now their – quarters, he could say that he was satisfied with the elves work. The Cottage's ones, of course. The once bare floor was now covered with light wooden floors in beech wood with plushy light green carpets and large tapestries depicting landscapes to give the whole thing a homey feeling. To complete the work, a fake bay window showed the forest from afar and brought an appreciated artificial light.

It had nothing to do with what it was before but it wasn't unpleasant. He never cared for his personal comfort before but he had to admit it was nice. The elves had tidied the place and it was now easier to walk in it. A shelf had been added and there was no book or artifact lying on the floor, at least, not anymore. It really was nice. Evan seemed to like and that was the entire point of it. Severus led him to his new bedroom. It was smaller than his own at the Cottage but he had made sure to copy its style there. There was only place for a wardrobe, a desk and its chair with two rows of shelves above it on the wall, a four poster bed and a bedside table and a plushy royal blue carpet. The walls and floor were the same than at the Cottage and a fake window added some light while showing the lake and the mountains over there. Evan had one of these small smiles on his face – one of those he only gave to me – and Severus knew he was happy. He even knew the boy would have been happy with far more less but the fact that the Potions Master did it all just for him had touched him.

Then, he showed him the place around leaving the best one for the last, the one place he went when he wanted to be left alone, to relieve the pressure even for a bit. To go there, one had to go up a narrow staircase behind a secret passage behind the wall, activated by a password he discovered by chance during his first year of teaching. The others teachers always pitied him for living in the dark and cold dungeons but being privileged enough to be the only one to have access to this little secret, protected from all, made him feel overjoyed. It was full protected from the weather and the cold by very intricate spells which guaranteed it a near constant spring weather and temps. He'd made grow a thick floor of green grass and lilies on its sides. It was like a little sanctuary in Lily's memory. Now, he shared it with her son. This is where he decided to put the second set of swing for Evan. A smaller one, of course, because there wasn't much place but he knew Evan would be careful to not damage anything.

He led the child toward the swing in silence. The boy sat down on it and Severus went on pushing him slowly. He felt a bit ridiculous but did it all the same. Once Evan was high enough on the air, he chose to sit aside on a conjured chair, trying to put on a confident face. Evan smiled to him. Soon, it would be lunch time and he knew the others professors and Albus would be there. He wanted to enjoy his last moment of peace. He would have preferred to have a quiet meal alone in their quarters. After all, he had a small kitchen and dining room. However, he knew that as soon as the lessons would begin, they would be expected to be present to all of the meals in the Great Hall so it was probably better that Evan got used to it from now on.

While making our way to the Great Hall, Severus stopped to the kitchens in order to give the castle house elves his directives upon Evan's diet. Hogwarts cooking was delicious but truth to be told, it was also very rich and a bit unhealthy. Evan had presently enough difficulty with eating now that he didn't get an appetite stimulant so he didn't need much more reason to not eat. He also knew the boy wouldn't have dared to tell him as such and was grateful that he had taken care of it for him. He tried to give the boy markers during their trip to the Great Hall but Evan was distracted by the moving paintings and stairs and pretty much everything else. He couldn't hold it against him as he would have been the same at his age. He could indulge him for once. Howarts was an impressing sight after all. Finally, they arrived to the front doors. He knelt before Evan, knowing he needed the reassurance.

« Everything will be alright Evan. You don't have to talk or to answer questions. I just want you to be polite, alright? »

He shyly nodded.

While getting up, Severus took the boy's hand in his own, rewarded by a small smile.

He opened the door.

**oO°Oo**

« Severus, my boy ! You're back! », Albus joyfully exclaimed.

He noticed the way the Headmaster tried to have a look at Evan who was well hidden behind his robes in a burst of shyness. He didn't like anyone to pay him attention; it made him ill at ease. The child much preferred staying in the shadows to observe. However, once before the great table, Severus encouraged the child to show himself. He had a blank face and his eyes were on the floor as he had glued himself to the Potions Master's side. Severus didn't wait for anyone to begin the interrogation and, holding Evan's hand tightly, proceeded to introduce him:

« May I introduce you to Evan Snape, my son that I adopted this last summer », he calmly said as my colleagues didn't even try to hide their shock. « Evan, may I introduce you to Professor Minerva McGonagall, professor Pomona Sprout and professor Filius Flitwick. You already know Headmaster Dumbledore », he greeted while presenting them. His voice became dry as he decided to cut the fogginess which seemed to have encompassed his colleagues' brains by saying: « Now, if you are finished with staring at my son, we would like to eat. »

And then, he walked to his usual place, between Minerva and Filius. It was a small table, only for the Headmaster and the Heads of House. The other professors would come in a few days which gave the Heads of House enough time to put on the schedules of everyone, make some last minute change and the like. Two chairs and plates appeared between my colleagues so both Evan and himself could sit side by side, thanks probably to the house elves. Evan's plate was filled with steamed veggies, some potatoes and a small braised chicken wing. His plate was far from being full but Severus would be grateful if the boy could eat at least half of it. Being starved for most of his life still had left its mark upon the child. He threw a significant look to Evan so he would begin to eat. Inevitably, one of his colleagues thought she had to put her two cents:

« Severus! », Minerva dryly admonished him. « You can't hope to drop such news without arousing our curiosity, can you? »

In fact, yes, he did have some hope to escape it. He sighed mentally. He supposed he couldn't really let it go and not answer them now, could he?

« What do you want to know? », he reluctantly asked.

As he had expected, it was the Headmaster who went on:

« Now, now, Severus », he admonished lightly? « You can't resent your colleagues to be surprised to see you come with a child and furthermore, one you have adopted when you always claimed you would never want, and I quote you: "one of those inept and irresponsible dunderheads whose ignorant and incompetent parents had been unfortunate enough to inflict on our society". »

Feeling Evan tensed, without needed to see it, he answered:

« Evan is a polite and respectful child unlike the unruly wild fauna which usually haunts this school's corridors… well, apart from my snakes, of course », he added as an afterthought, willingly neglecting the looks of his colleagues. « As for the reasons which made me the proud father of Evan, they are my own business », he concluded.

He said it as much for his colleagues than for Evan because he didn't want him to doubt. He had a promise to fulfill.

« Of course, my boy », Albus graciously tempered. « Though, you must understand it came as a shock. »

« You had known though », he reminded. « After all, you had met Evan at the Leaking Cauldron at the beginning of this summer. You should have gotten used to the idea », he said, knowing the reaction he would get.

« You knew! », his colleagues exclaimed at the Headmaster.

The Headmaster made a calming gesture and he was disgusted as he saw them obey immediately like sheep.

«Yes, my friends, I knew », he admitted. « However, I felt it wasn't my place to announce it as it was, like Severus said, such a personal thing. »

Sometimes he felt like Albus should have been in Slytherin. The silence fell and he could finally dip into his plate while watching Evan eat. He ate slowly, as usual and with the veggies first. He said he stomached them better. The Potions Master would made sure the boy would eat at least one potatoe or two and finish all of his meat. Obviously, the welcomed quietness couldn't last.

« So. Evan. How old are you? », Filius kindly asked.

« I'm nine, sir », Evan softly answered, putting down his fork – and its food – on the edge of his plate.

« What have you done during your holidays? », Pomona seemed to have felt compelled to ask with this kind of voice she must reserved to small children – or mental ones…

« Many things », Evan vaguely replied, obviously ill at ease with the attention, pushing his food around the edges of his plate.

Filius was to renew the discussion but Severus cut him off:

« Would it be possible for my son to actually eat without being harassed with questions? »

« Now, now, Severus », the Headmaster interrupted. «We all want to know your boy better. »

« Then, do it outside of meal time, if you please », he retorted, not impressed.

« What will you do with Evan during class? », Minerva cut in, curious.

He was going to answer when the Headmaster replied:

« I was concerned too as Evan wasn't yet of age to attend Hogwarts so I took upon myself to contact Molly Weasley. She and her family are ready to welcome Evan in their mist during the week while you're teaching, Severus. In addition of her children who are already schooled here, she still had two younger children, Ronald and Ginevra. The boy is of Evan's age. She can teach them at the same time. I believe they will be great friends and Evan won't be isolated. A child needs company after all », he concluded while swallowing one of his bloody muggle sweets.

If only he could choke with one…

« I would have thanked you Albus if I hadn't already hired a private tutor for Evan and made the necessary changes upon my schedule to raise him by myself. I would like for you to refrain doing such… niceties in the future as I'm perfectly able to handle my own son », he sarcastically but firmly stated.

« I understand, my boy », the Headmaster replied, looking chastised. « I only wanted to help you in your new role as a father and I thought Evan would like some company. »

« Don't worry, Headmaster », he easily countered. « Evan and Draco are close friends and will see each other regularly. Furthermore, Evan will meet other children every Saturday for some activities his tutor can't supervised. »

« Draco? As in Lucius Malfoy's son », Minerva asked, taken aback.

« Yes, like in my godson's name, Minerva », Severus replied, annoyed.

The silence fell once more and he looked into Evan's plate. It was still almost full. He knew the tenseness in the meal didn't help it but the child still needed to eat.

« Evan, please eat your meat and I want at least one less potato on your plate », he firmly ordered.

The boy sighed, resigning himself.

« Yes, father », he obediently replied.

Severus nodded to himself, satisfied.

« Maybe some treacle tart would motivate the child, Severus », the far-too-meddling Headmaster interjected.

As if the promise of some sugary sweet would made Evan eat… If only.

« Albus, I would like for my son to have a balanced meal if you don't mind », he growled, infuriated with the old-coot-who-just-could-not-shut-up.

« I didn't want to meddle, my boy, I just thought that some sweetness would…»

He just wouldn't take it anymore.

« Albus. Stop. I think I know my son netter than you do and your comments are neither needed nor desired. »

« I apologize,Severus. Excuse this old man to want to spoil a bit this child. I didn't want to bother you », he contritely said, making of me the bad guy, once more.

Was that being a bad father to want for your child to eat something healthier than some sugar treat? Was he doing things wrong? Maybe the worst thing was that he wasn't sure. After all, the child had had so little treat with the Dursleys that it couldn't hurt to give him some but… he already had so little appetite as it was…

A new silence fell, heavier until Pomona felt it was under her responsibility to break it:

« I have new plants of Artemisia for the first years, Severus », she explained, enthusiast. « You could use them in your future batches of potions for the Hospital Wing, couldn't you? »

« I could have but I won't be brewing the Hospital Wing's potions for the coming year as I need to free time to spend with Evan », he calmly said, waiting for the incoming explosion.

« What? », Albus retorted in his no nonsense voice. « You always brewed the Infirmary potions, Severus. You can't just stop. »

« I've begun brewing the Infirmary potions when I first began teaching as I discovered that the potions used in the hospital Wing were all of a bad quality level bought for a cheap price. I've made them free of charge and on my free time with payment only for the ingredients. I however know that the budget had been increased each year after that but never used so it should allow you to order good quality potions », he reminded the Headmaster, not feeling one once of remorse. « And, I still brewed the batch needed for the first semester which leaves you enough time to take the necessary steps to furnish the Infirmary appropriately. »

« Severus, you can't…»

« I won't change my mind on this Albus. I've changed my priorities, you need to get used to it and as we are talking about the accommodations needed for Evan, you will need to allow an access for Evan's tutor. He will, of course, sign the Hogwarts security standard clause », he added, using the spur of the moment to make his request public so it would be difficult for the Headmaster to refuse him.

Before Albus could even think about objecting, Filius inquired:

« Who did you choose as a tutor? »

« Master Strakowski, maybe you have heard of him? », he asked, deliberately ignoring how Albus was frowning, displeased.

« Sergueï Strakowski! The Rune and Arithmancy Master ! », the little man exclaimed, impressed. « I believed he was dead. And he is little Evan's tutor? You are one lucky man, Severus! I would be grateful if you could arrange an interview and I'm sure Bathsheba and Septima would both die at the thought to meet such a brilliant mind! », Filius said, visibly delighted.

« I… will ask», he evenly said before going on with Albus. « The tutor will need an access at 9 a.m and 4 p.m. »

« It would be better to speak about it later in my office, Severus », the Headmaster imperiously retorted.

He nodded, decided to not yield even one once of a ground for Evan.

He then turned towards said son to notice that he had eaten only half of his meat and not even one potato. The child looked utterly miserable. He laid a soft hand on the child's head before saying lowly, so Evan would be the only one to hear:

« You don't need to worry, Evan. I won't let him change our plans and no, nothing is your fault and neither are you a burden. Now, please, try to eat a bit more. »

He raised his eyes on me and he sighed, defeated. All of these arguments had cut the child's appetite and he knew that right now, eating wouldn't do anything good and just upset his stomach. He called for an elf to keep Evan's plate for later and to bring the boy some of the oat milk he bought and some fruits. As he saw Minerva open her mouth, he threw her a glare so dark that she wisely chose to shut up. The Potions Master gave Evan a stomach soother. The child seemed to gain some of his appetite back as some red berries found their place before him with a big glass of milk. He ate them very slowly, sipping some milk in between. At least, he will have something in his belly…

At the end of the meal – he didn't remember what he had eaten himself, too busy to watch Evan or Albus or glare at his intrusive colleagues so they would let Evan eat in peace – Severus followed Albus to his office, adopting Evan pace so the child wouldn't tire himself while trying to keep up with the adults. He ignored the many attempts the Headmaster tried in order to put on some conversation, choosing to speak to Evan instead. Childish? No, he just wanted to make it clear to the old man that he was second in his schedule from now on and that it was useless to even try to convince him otherwise. Once before the gargoyle, Albus gave one of his ridiculous passwords – today, it was "Praline Chocolate" – revealing the staircase. Once in the office, he offered one of his usual sweets – which they both refused – before broaching the subject.

« I'm not your enemy, my boy », he sighed. « Nor am I Evan's. »

« But it's obvious that you want to separate the both of us though », he accused.

« Severus, I apologize if you thought as such. I only want the best, for the both of you », he added. « What will happen to Evan when He will come back? He will want Evan to join him. How will you protect him then? By creating early strong ties with the Weasleys…»

« No », he interjected. « I thank you for your concern and believe me when I say it is appreciated but I already taken step in order to protect Evan in this case. »

« I understand and I know you understand the importance of your… role when He will return as well », the Headmaster softly hinted while gazing worryingly at Evan.

« Evan knows I'm a spy », he bluntly said.

« Severus! », the Headmaster exclaimed, outraged. « Confide such a thing to a child is plainly irresponsible. Evan is already under enough danger without adding such sensitive information…»

« When I decided to adopt Evan », Severus calmly interrupted, «I decided that it was my duty to give him all of the necessary informations he would need to exercise a right decision. As for the protection of said informations, you don't need to worry as I'm a Master Occlumens. As Evan is linked to me by blood and magic, my own Occlumency will protect him until his own is sufficient enough. »

« A blood adoption? », Albus mutters, disapproving.

« Perfectly legal », he retorted.

« Ah yes, there are still many old and archaic laws in our archives », Albus sighed, trying – and failing – to guilty me.

The silence was broken as Albus surrendered and listened to the changes he brought to his schedule and the necessary accommodations which would be needed for Evan's tutor. He, of course, tried to convince the Potions Master to organize a meeting with the Weasleys. He didn't agree or disagreed to keep peace for now. He knew the man thought his bond with the Malfoys, their pureblood supremacy beliefs and their support to the Dark Lord were not a healthy environment to raise a child and that having the Weasleys; whom were known as Light wizards, to our side would help protect Evan in the long run but he didn't know Evan like he did.

First, Evan wasn't an impressionable child, far from it. Second,Severus wouldn't force Evan into a relationship he didn't want. If he was to make friend with the Weasleys brood, he would. For now, he would be free to choose whoever he wanted. After one hour long meeting during which Evan read quietly a classic from wizarding literature: "The Tales of Beedle the Bard", they finally were free to return to their quarters. He thought they would eventually be able to relax around a chess game but his colleagues decided to suddenly make an unannounced appearance.

He never had to face as many "social visits" in his quarters in the last nine years as he had this day.

**oO°Oo**

They settled down but – far much too soon in his opinion – it was time for the beginning of a new school year. Evan had begun his tutoring with Strakowski two days after our arrival. His dear colleagues complained for the "poor dear who had to sacrifice his holidays" but, firstly, every other wizarding children, well, at least, the pureblooded ones, had lessons throughout the year even if it was only five days a week and only for three hours a day and secondly, Evan would be bored if he were to be left to himself. Idleness just wasn't for him. The Potions Master had got Evan a pass for Hogwarts library by some sly technique. There were so much papers for the incoming tutor, much more than the usual that is, as he wasn't part of the staff so it was possible that one little separated sheet had "inadvertently" been slid among them. It would give him access to all of the books in the library even in the restricted section but only with an adult with him.

Severus decided it was important as many of the interesting volumes were stocked there.

He put on his teaching robes. They were spelled against fire, water and almost everything except for the idiocy of his dunderheads looking like students. Even if there were some changes this year. His complexion was still healthy as he was now used to early walks with Evan around the lake. He even received compliments from his colleagues… His hair, however, had once more gain back to their usual oiliness as he had used much of his last days to experiment. Evan gave him a new idea for his new project without knowing. To repair cartilages and bones considered permanently irreparable, he just told him it would be more convenient if they had the consistency of dough.

This has opened up a whole new range of possibilities.

He was almost through it, the new formula would soon be ready to be tested but it had also given him an idea to improve the wolfsbane potion. It could be used to reduce the transformation pain if the bones and cartilages were to be soft and malleable during their remodeling. He had to think about it. He threw a blank look to the new bunch of inept and brainless children who would soon invade his classes and make his life hell. Would he found at least one gem among these cockroaches? He sighed and a little hand came on his, bringing him out of his depressing thoughts. Evan was at his side, pale figure in his blue robes – his favorites – and it reminded him it was also the moment where he was going to introduce his son to the world. Well, Hogwarts.

Most of the students were looking at him with curiosity and some were even openly staring at him. No respect. One look of his and they were properly cowering, reassuring Evan. They would soon learn not to annoy my son. Detentions and points taken were the key, he ferociously thought. They said of him that he was too stern after all – who was he to disabuse them? – but if even one tried anything with Evan or even put one hair of his head out of place, they would learn how vicious he could really be. He would introduce Evan to his snakes after the feast. He wanted to meet the new ones and reassure the old ones. He knew how much some of his snakes needed him and he didn't want them to close off because they would believe he wouldn't be there for them anymore because of Evan. He wanted it to be crystal clear. He discreetly made a sign to his prefects. He had warned them by owl and spoken about it.

Evan couldn't eat anything once again but he couldn't hold it against him and he gave him a nutrition potion. Finally, once the feast finished, he went to the dungeons with Evan, using some staff secret passageways. They landed in the Slytherin common room, waiting in the shadows. Soon, the prefects, from fifth to seventh year, and the whole house of Slytherin began entering. The first years and then the rest of them, the seventh years closing the walk. He was always pleased with how orderly his house was. The prefect made sure to repeat clearly the password for the entrance so everyone would remember it. They had chosen "Belladona". It was time for some limelight. He went out of the shadows with Evan and walked over the group.

«Welcome to Slytherin », he began, without raising his voice. « For those of you who don't know me, I'm Severus Snape, your Head of House and your potions professor. Slytherin is your new your house and will stay your house for all of your schooling here at Hogwarts and beyond. There are some rules I expect you to follow as long as you will be under my guidance and I'd like for you to still follow them outside of these walls, once you graduated. »

He walked toward the headboard where were listed the rules he had instituted when beginning teaching.

**_Rule 1: Slytherin is family, stay united._**

« I don't want to hear about dissensions out of the common room. I don't care about you little quarrels, out of these walls you will present a united front and rely on each other. Slytherin is family and no one is to be left behind. It means too that you will respect each other. No violence or bullying will be tolerated. If you don't like someone, just ignore him or her. »

**_Rule 2: Slytherin is a noble house, honor it._**

« I expect and I require the best from you, in your studies and behavior. You will learn that I rarely punish my snakes publicly but, contrary to popular belief, it doesn't mean you will escape punishment and I assure you that you won't like what is in it for you if you don't follow this rule. I remind you that potion tutoring sessions will be offered on the first Saturday on the first week lessons for those who didn't get a chance in learning how to properly brew before Hogwarts. Study groups will also be organized to help you and are mandatory, no exception. »

**_Rule 3: Slytherin is a proud house, respect it._**

« You are old enough to take care of your own things. I expect of you – and I include some of the older ones who seem to "forget" from times to times, he pointed to some blushing students – to make your bed every morning, tidy your rooms and put any dirty clothes on the basket for the house elves. The same rule applies to the common room and the private study rooms. No exception, the house elves have orders in this subject and won't do the work for you. Furthermore, they won't bring you any food or drink in the bedrooms where you aren't allowed to eat anyway. I will make inspections, you have been warned. »

**_Rule 4: Slytherin is the house for the cunning and ambitious, be proud._**

« More than a rule, it's a life conduct. You are here because you have a goal and that you will do anything to reach your ambitions. Be proud. Slytherin house is often scorned and despised by the other houses. More often than not, you will be accused of the worst, be it true or not. Well, if you get caught… be proud, raise your chin. Show that it can't hurt you. And don't hesitate to ask for help. You won't be judged and your secrets won't be shared even in Slytherin. The Head Prefects, Mr Johnson and Miss Harper are there to listen to you as are the other prefects. As for myself, my door is always open should you need it. My office open hours are posted on the headboard. Outside of them, I'm still available for emergencies. Weekly meetings will be organized every Friday evening to talk about your successes, your difficulties and every other subject you want to broach with me. Individual sessions will be done for the first years during the first month so I can learn to know you. You will receive a summoning beforehand. »

And he achieved by the Slytherin motto : **_« A posse ad esse, aut inveniam aut faciam (From possibility to actuality, either finding a way or making one) »_**

He looked at every face to make sure they all understand the rules. It had taken him a long time for Salazar Slytherin House to become what it was now. Slughorn only cared about the ones that could be useful to him or his reputation and the others Heads who had successively replaced him after his retirement during the next three years just didn't bother to do anything, staying only for the course of the year. It was war time and Slytherin had to face ostracism from the other houses. No professors had put a stop to it as it was true that some of the students were to become Death Eaters but for the others, no one had cared. He came just two months before the end of the war. He was young, not 21 yet and some of his older students had been to school with him. Asserting his authority had been difficult but he had been resolved to restore the House of Slytherin to its former glory. His spying mission didn't make it easy for him but he tried to pull the house toward neutrality but he didn't have time to do much before being thrown to Azkaban which made his task more complicated than it was.

However, needing an outlet to his suffering, he had put all of his strength back then to protect his snakes as they began to be important in his eyes. He gave them the support he needed for himself, he took upon him to defend them and even to openly show favoritism toward his protégés who were ignored at best or belittled (unconsciously) by his colleagues because of their house. The end of the war made everyone look over on the heavy loss and many families were put under surveillance or thrown to Azkaban. Harassed by their fellow students, he had been enraged that no one could put things apart and see what he could see. They were only children pulled into things they had no control whatsoever. He could understand them, empathize to their pain. They didn't seek for a Dark Lord follower or even a reformed one. What they sought was for someone to listen, to comfort them and tell them that they were doing well, that someone cared and was proud of them.

He now knew how salutary it had been for them and for himself. Not only in the hope to find future Potions Masters but because he needed the bond he had established with his snakes. It was because of it that he had stayed at Hogwarts and not for his promise to Albus itself. He, of course, wasn't close with all of his snakes but flattered himself by knowing each of them and to be able to spot the ones who needed his help. Some more than others. How many times had he to take care of the abused ones, sometimes so badly hurt? One or two ended in his house each year. He had to break their resistance and denial, to gain their trust and to fight for them so they wouldn't be back to their lonely suffering. For the oldest, he pulled many strings and every scrap of favor, more or less legal, to put them in an apprenticeship during summer time. For the youngest, he tried to convince the mothers to leave their abusive husband promising them safety and even money. He had gone to visit uncles and aunties to take charge of the children. He had tried everything.

He had to renounce to get any help from Albus or the others Heads of house, even when it wasn't one of his snakes. How many times did he hear that the child was exaggerating, that a firm hand was beneficial to raise a child properly, that the family was made of honorable people and they couldn't believe such a tale, soiling the reputation of such good people… The Wizarding Child Care Services had laughed at him when he tried to present the proof of his child abuse cases. After all, what could a former Death Eaters have to say about children protection? He certainly only wanted to put honest and nice families into trouble. So, his colleagues just looked the other way or preferred to close their eyes on the reality that life just wasn't the flowerbeds they thought it was. He didn't think they did it consciously, they just thought that it couldn't happen and that people who had fought against the Dark Lord could not do such a terrible thing. Albus even said that he was projecting his own childhood.

That was true, in a way.

He knew how difficult it had been for him to show what he perceived as a weakness. He knew the shame to admit not being strong enough to protect and defend oneself. He knew how hard it had been to ask and even more to receive help. So he stopped seeking help among his colleagues and busied himself with looking after the students, all of them. Slytherin or not. To seek the ones who needed someone to care. It seemed weird to him how difficult it was for him to bond with his son when it was so easy with his students. It just wasn't the same but he didn't know how exactly. And now, he would present the boy he had taken as his son. He would present him and hope for the best. Hope that his snakes will accept him and welcome him in their mist. He wanted to be able to let Evan with them when he wouldn't be available to take care of him by himself. It was important to him that Evan got along with them. At the end of his speech, he pushed slightly Evan before him so they could have a proper look at him. He was nervous, his closed face showing it.

« Slytherin is family. That's why I wanted, before letting you go to bed, to introduce you to my son, Evan Snape. I adopted him this very summer. He is nine and you will see him from time to time in the common room or the library. It doesn't mean that I won't be as available as I was before to you. It won't change anything for you, well except for the prefects but they already know what to expect. If you need to speak to me, be assured that our privacy will still stand. Evan will go to his bedroom while the spare room is still there, should you need it. Do you have questions? »

The first year shook their heads, visibly exhausted and went to their new rooms. The ones staying were curious but didn't dare to be the first to ask. Finally, a little second year, Sally Jenkins-Parsons, raised shyly her hand. He nodded toward her.

« Sir, will he go in class with the first years? », she asked.

« No. Evan has a tutor who will teach him in one of the unused classroom beside the potions classroom where I teach », he calmly answered.

The silence didn't stay for long as another student raised his hand. A seventh year, Janus Garwick, finally dared asking the question everyone was dying to ask:

« Professor, you said that you adopted Evan this summer and I wondered, well… », he mumbled, not finishing his question.

He felt Evan tensing.

« Why did I adopt him? », he finished, relieving Janus and putting his hand on Evan's shoulders.

He thought about what he would say, wanting to explain without revealing too much.

« I've met Evan by accident at the summer beginning. He was a war orphan and was living among the muggles. His living conditions were not… nice enough so I decided to take care of him meanwhile searching for some wizarding family of his. »

He knew he didn't need to explain farther, his snakes would understand. He knew it would certainly reinforce the hatred toward the muggles for the ones who had been raised this way by their parents and those who had been abused by them. However, they wouldn't say it. They knew that he wouldn't say anything about it as long as they didn't try to bully others because of said opinions. Contrary to another popular belief, Slytherin welcomed muggleborns too and he refused for them to become victims of bullies. The ones who had previously violated this rule never did it again. Here and then, being a spy had its own advantages. Some would think he did it because he was under the Headmaster's scrutiny and others because he wanted to prove that he really was a reformed Death Eater.

« After learning that there were no wizarding relatives that could take care of him, I decided to keep him with me as I didn't want to let him go back to where he was kept. I hope you will welcome him and make him an honorary slytherin. »

They all but one or two nodded so he knew he would have to watch for some of them. However, he knew the others would take care and protect Evan if needed. NO one would dare to hurt him. He bid them good night and reminded them of their appointment the next morning to get their schedule during breakfast. He then led Evan to their quarters through the secret passage between the common room and my office. Only the slytherin prefects and himself were allowed to use it. Well, Evan was too, now. The boy yawned quietly behind his hand. The day had been long. He sent him to his room to change for the night. Once done, he came to bid Severus goodnight. In his own way. He liked to cuddle against him on the living-room sofa. He didn't know why he tolerated this. Then, after some time the Potions Master spent reading the files of his new students, he went up by himself to go sleep in his bed.

He keeps his door half open, to hear him, he supposed. Then, he retired to his office to wait for the students who wouldn't be long before seeking him, accompanied by one of the prefects. He didn't choose anyone as a prefect and he knew some of his choice had let his colleagues puzzled more than once. He didn't judge in regards of their records, theirs grades or their families but through their behavior inside of slytherin. Becoming a prefect in slytherin means more than in any other house. A prefect was to be tactful, discreet, observant and with enough charisma so he or her would be listened to. He leaned heavily on his prefects to report students issues, possible abuse, bullying but also to stir the slytherin toward unity as they were the closer of the students. He gave them more responsibilities than any other Head of house. He allowed them to give detentions and supervise them after talking about it with him for example.

Two knocks against his door informed him it was time. He invited them to come in. Leroy Brewster, Holly Willtshire and Arsenius Saltzderwick entered with one of the prefect. The latter greeted him before leaving to do his patrolling. The first one followed him to the rest room so he could heal him. As much as he tried to help his students, sometimes all he could do was sent balms and potions throughout the summer and to keep contact via owls. The only positive thing was that it kept the abuse to a lower level. He didn't talk, trying to do what he had to efficiently and as quickly as possible. He could have send them to Poppy but her oath forced her to inform the guardians for any injury which could be detrimental to the students.

Once each of them had been taken care properly, he led them to the living room, offering hot chocolates with a calming draught mixed in it. He casted a privacy spell to make them more comfortable as they could see how Evan's door was opened. They talk a bit, slowly relaxing from their summer. He let them take their time, asking light questions about homework and the like while he observed them. He noticed that Leroy's robes were too small, his father having probably drunk the necessary money for new ones. He already decided to send a house elf take the boy's measurements for an owl order with the fund he had put in place with old alumni's help. The boy would be embarrassed but be grateful all the same and he knew that the Potions Master wouldn't ask for anything in exchange of his help.

Then, he went to his potions cabinet and gave a blue-green potion to Holly without saying anything. She read the label before beaming at him. She had always been proud of her long curly blond hair and if he was to look at the way she desperately pulls at her now very short curls, he could easily deduced it was probably one of her step-mother's retaliation. She wore this cut well but he knew how such things could hurt a teenage girl. Arsenius seemed fine though. His problem wasn't related to his parents but to his uncle to whom they confided him as they spend their time traveling. His uncle was too… "affectionate" but as he had grown, he had rebelled against his abuser and his uncle had turned violent. He had tried to speak with his parents who called him a liar and an attention seeking child. He was really delicate and Severus had to let him put balm on his injuries alone. He only let him heal his back. That he let him see him without his pants and shirt was a miracle in itself but it had taken him two full years to earn that trust.

At least Evan escaped that, Merlin be blessed.

Finally, they were ready to go to bed, leaving Severus alone. He sighed. He still had to read the factory reports before going to bed himself and there was still some mail he had to deal with. Finally, as he was done one hour later, he went back to the living room and decided to go check on Evan. The child was sleeping quietly, curled under his cover as usual. The cover had slightly slid so he went to put it in place. He didn't tuck the boy in, he just didn't want for him to get a cold. As it was, the dungeons were still colder than any other part of the castle so he casted a warming charm that would last until morning. He then went to his own bedroom.

It had been a long day and night and more had yet to come.

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><p>1 Its twigs are renowned to bring luck and protect from the bad eye. The Celts put it to have a similar meaning to the one of the ash tree, the tree of knowledge and Life Bringer. It was called Thor' Greetings too as it permitted said God to avoid drowning by gripping to its trunk.<p>

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><p>Well, if you want to let me know what you thought... <strong>Click upon the little thing there<strong>... yeah, that.


	11. Doubts

Hey!

It's been a long time!?

I didn't forgotten this story but well... When I began translating it from french, I began to change the story and then, I had to change the french version too. It was plainly boring and mostly frustrating. You have no idea how I long for this transition to be finished! Then, now that it's done, I had to take into account some things that people told me so I had to review the previous chapters... I'm done with the first chapter now, and I will be doing the others bit by bit. I hope the last part of this transition will be done quickly but I won't make any promises. Just know that I will never abandon this story.

Never did, never will!

Personal motto.

Thank you all that did leave me a review, it was really ink for my quill.

Now, I'll let you enjoy this chapter.

Disclaimer: Not mine, not at all... But I am the one who's playing with them here.

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><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

**Doubts**

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><p>We're in Griffindor ! Me and Georges. Of course, all of our family has gone there but still, I feared somewhat that I would be separated from my twin brother. We've never been apart before and I don't think I could have stood to be. And then, we have a lot of projects we've been planning – for ages! – on doing too. We have only one true motive: being known as the Hogwarts Greatest Pranksters Ever. Studies? Well, not on our top list. Mum had already promised us a good spanking with her wooden spoon if we get into trouble but it had never stopped us before and certainly won't stop us now that we're far away from her motherly wrath for most of the time! Percy has promised her to keep an eye on us, the bloody wanker, but me and Georges have the means to make his life hell. I can even say, without exaggerating, that it's one of our main goals in life. I do prefer Charlie. He, at least, understands us. He's a bit like Bill but funnier and that's saying something.<p>

Oye! It's Georges who had elbowed me to get my attention which, logically, should be put upon my plate filled with delicious grilled chicken and tasty potatoes. Instead, he nudges me, not so subtly, to look at the teachers' table.

"See?" he whispers to me.

See what? I try to catch up with what he had seen but to no avail. We're gonna see the teachers often enough to not have to watch them during meal time, aren't we?

"He's speaking about Professor Snape's son, the man in dark robes", Charlie graciously explains.

"You didn't say Snape had a son before", I accuse him, frowning.

"That's because he adopted him this past summer", Charlie kindly enlightens me.

"You would have known if only you had paid attention to professor Dumbledore's speech as you should have", Percy lectures.

As the immature beings that we proudly are, me and Georges just look each other for a second before pulling our tongues to Percy who turns away, annoyed. We blow up laughing under Charlie's indulgent gaze. As our big brother bears Georges harassing him about the possibility for first years to get into the Quidditch team, I, for one, decide to see what Snape's son looks like. Finally, I spot him beside the man – professor Snape I guess – clothed all in black and with acidic eyes. He's so small and pale that one can barely see his head above the table. He doesn't look at anyone nor does he eat what's in his plate. There's not much inside it anyway and it doesn't look good, steamed stuff and all. His face is blank as if someone had erased all expression on it. It looks weird. Suddenly, I feel the hair on my arms rise as my eyes meet the dark and cold ones of Snape and I hurriedly look away. Charlie was right when he said that the potions professor wasn't one to be crossed. Even Percy said so and that's saying something from the teacher's pet. Still, I'm curious, it's one of my biggest qualities as it is and I get back looking.

Snape is saying something to him but the boy just keep staring silently at him. The professor sighs and gives him a vial of potions. He swallows it all at once. That is just plain cruel in my books. Potions always taste disgusting like old socks at best or prehistoric rotten vomit at worse. But it looks like it works as the boy is eating now. But he does so with manners as his elbows are under the table and he's sitting very straight on his chair. He eats slowly and properly, not like Ronniekin who tries to stuff as much food as possible in his mouth. With Georges, we still hadn't found how he does it without suffocating. And Merlin knows how much we had tried… He really looks delicate and small, the son of Snape. Suddenly, two very green and very intense eyes met mine before turning away. One thing I know is that he doesn't have the same eyes as Snape. I get back to my plate before asking Charlie:

"Hey, what's he gonna do, you know, the son of Snape, during classes? Is he gonna go with us?"

"No, he's only nine", Charlie explains to me. "Honorine, who's a prefect for Griffindor this year, told me that all of the prefects have been informed that one classroom, beside the potions' one in the dungeons, has been reserved for him and his tutor. And his name is Evan."

Evan?

I like this name.

**oO°Oo**

"Today, I would like to compare the differences in the use of runic/arithmantic systems with wanded spells", Strakowski explained in his usual stern and harsh tone, requiring the absolute attention of his student.

Fortunately, the main concerned didn't have any issue with that.

"Firstly, the magic used isn't the same. We don't know exactly which source of magic is used with runes and arithmancy, this is part of the Lost Arts that had been forgotten during the Dark Ages, between roughly 1000 BC and almost 1800 BC with the establishment of the Statute of Secrecy in 1792 because of the invention of the muggle repelling charms. Now, we are in a time where we are rediscovering these arts but there is so much knowledge that had been destroyed that we have to admit our great ignorance as of today. Our guess is that runes have magic on their own either due to their original creation or because of some rituals that we don't know anything about. Others think that they get their magic from our environment but no one has absolute certainty about it. As for the arithmancy, we just inherited the basics and synthetic meaning of numbers and all the rules we presently use are the results of a hard and meticulous work from many arithmancy guilds and societies in the two last centuries, when our people was finally left in peace."

The boy was taking neat notes on both of his notebooks. Strakowski could only guess that he would make research upon the Dark Ages later. He rather liked how the child was so curious and autonomous and made sure to encourage it. He went on:

"As for wanded magic, the answer is quite simple even if it uses arithmancy as well. As it is, the magic is directly extracted from our magical cores so its power depends of each people but also about the control they have on the spell. Now, it's obvious that runic magic is highly more powerful that the wanded one but still far less used, why is that, Evan?"

The boy seemed to contemplate his answer before quietly answering:

"I can see two main reasons as of yet. The first being that in order to use arithmancy and runes one needs to have a good knowledge and understanding of them which means long studies which must be pretty discouraging for the average witch and wizard. The second one is based on the same roots as the first which is that, in order to use your runes and arithmancy sequences, you need a long preparation ahead while wanded spells can be cast immediately, once they have be learnt. There's no waiting time. In a duel, unless you have time to prepare, you won't be able to use runes sequences", Evan simply explained.

"Very good, Evan", praised Strakowski before asking, noticing the displeased expression on his student's face: "What?"

"Isn't there a way to use runes in a duel? I mean… there are protective amulets and one can also put protective runes on clothes to shield their owner from minor jinxes and hexes so why wouldn't there be a way to use them differently, in a less static way?", Evan said, obviously frustrated.

The tutor nodded, understanding his student's frustration.

"Indeed, I won't deny that one can add runic and arithmancy sequences on inanimate objects but the same sequences only protect for a very specific kind of spells so one only need to use a rarer or a powerful spell to break the sequence. Furthermore, these sequences are all defensive and not offensive because of the preparation needed but also because it's difficult to lock one specific target which moves. So, we have two issues: firstly the limited capacity of all protection on removable devices, even on the most powerful ones, and then, because of the impossibility to properly strike back."

The child frowned, obviously unhappy with his tutor's conclusions before looking at him straight in his eyes, saying:

"I'll find a way."

There was no doubt, no hesitation in the boy's voice. How arrogant youngsters were nowadays, Strakowski thought, amused. He decided to indulge his student's whim and let him explore this path. After all, it only would motivate him to study harder, if it was possible.

"How do you suggest proceeding?" he questioned, curious.

"I guess the key point is in using the sequences in a dynamic and removable way so we could cast them very much like a wanded spell, the child said before thinking before turning pensive. No, in fact, the two points are the same. We need a removable support with sequences previously drawn that could be cast depending on the need by vocal command or maybe an activation spell… Now, we have to imagine… See, maybe the floo network could provide some information about vocal command or maybe… yes, an easily support that one could carry everywhere but how could we charge and cast multiple sequences on a moving target… Like a wand but without it being a wand or, maybe…", the child muttered, mostly for himself while putting notes and ideas on his notebook, the tutor now forgotten in regard of his new project.

Strakowski decided to let him try it.

Failure was also part of one's learning.

**oO°Oo**

"You still have one hour to complete your pitiful attempt at brewing a Gibberishery potion", the Potions Master thundered.

We don't mind the Potion Master's tone. Me and Georges, we always loved experimenting with potions, you see. We weren't allowed of course but it had never deterred us, eh! Weird mixtures to dye Ronniekin in green or to confuse him into eating worms… It was fun! But now, we're at Hogwarts, it's serious business now! We have access to so many more things… well, "access" maybe isn't the right word. With Georges, we would very much like to "have a look" into Snape's cupboards, to "borrow" one or two little things that wouldn't be missed, well, not really. 'Cause, with Georges, we have found something that felt just like finding one founders' treasures, it's just great like that! It was under a poorly sealed stone below Georges bed. Forgot what he was doing there… Well, no matter. It's a notebook called "A Marauders' guide for all future pranksters". This thing is like the Pranksters' Saint Graal, the Jester's Bible…

It's priceless.

It has been written by some crazy genius guys with very weird names: Prongs, Padfoot, Moony and one Wormtail. And the stuff there is just delightfully insane. Recipes for potions to make people sing rhymes instead of speaking, spells to change hairs into snakes or feathers or to make people believe they have boils all over their face. It's just dreamily great! With Georges, we just so want to try it! But… We won't just copy, you know. We want to create our own things too; we have so many ideas but… We don't have much money that's why we'd like to "borrow" some stuff, just to begin. Then, we'll find a way to earn some money. Otherwise, we could also go into the forbidden forest… Just the name is so cool! So many adventures are waiting for us there!

I focus on my potion. It's lemon yellow, just like it should be. I raise my head and me and Georges both smile. We understand each other with just a look. We think alike. A twin thing probably. So… Lee had heard from Harvey who had heard it from Coleen who had been said by Judith that Snape sometimes let students who had proved themselves in class use one of the labs in the dungeons to brew outside of class's time. And that, that would be so cool for our experiments! And rumors said that the most talented students can even serve themselves in the cupboards for the most common ingredients… If that don't work, we could still find an abandoned classroom but if we were to get caught… Well, for now, it's just our first class so we have to focus to impress our teacher.

Suddenly, a slight knock sounded on the door which probably led to Snape's office. The latter throws us a pure look of contempt, surely to encourage us not to look at what doesn't concern us but… well, we are Griffindor and… with Georges, we still keep an eye on our cauldron while watching discretely (at least, I think we were) what's going on. It's Snape's son who's entering the classroom with a small bag on his shoulder and a book almost as thick as he is against his chest. The professor guides him to a small desk beside his own. He sits down and we see his profile now. I didn't see yesterday but he has a long hair braid on his back. And he really is thin. Ronnie's twice as thick as he is. Snape casts a spell on him, I don't know what exactly. I look at Georges but he doesn't know as well.

Evan, if I recall well, sits obediently and gets out of his bag some kind of funny notebook and a thing way weirder, if possible. Is that something to write? He doesn't look at anyone; he just read his huge book with attention before taking notes with his funny not-quill on his funny notebook. It's so strange! A hand, soon followed by an arm and then the rest of a body covered in black clothes above which a pale face with narrowed eyes are on me and make me understand that I – maybe – didn't pay enough attention to my cauldron. I throw a look at it, relieved that it's still the right color. I know that trying to escape retaliation by focusing once more won't save me. Charlie had warned us enough.

"Tell us, Mr Weasley, what's so fascinating in the sight of one child studying?" he said softly but loud enough so I begin to sweat.

I can just swallow hard and stay still. Right now, it's better to forget my griffindor's trends for trouble and opting for self-preservation. That means to shut up and to suffer in silence.

"That's probably something you're not familiar with, Mr Weasley, if the sight of such a common thing seems so remarkable in your mind and fascinates you so much as to make you forget the point of your presence in this very classroom, making such presence a grotesque waste of my time, which I consider to be valuable" the dark professor rants.

I keep my head down.

"5 points from Griffindor, Mr Weasley. Please keep this dismal brain of yours on this lesson otherwise I will convert these points into detention", he icily finished.

The time left of the lesson happens to go in absolute silence. Once our potion is complete and in its vial, I leave it on the professor's desk before packing my things. When leaving, I met the apologetic eyes of Evan. I smile to him, making him sign that I'm fine. After all, it's not his fault. For a moment, it's like there's a shadow of a smile on his face but soon it disappears as he begins to read his book again. What's in it that's so captivating? I personally find that books that huge should be forbidden but that's my opinion. I join Georges outside. The weather is so good that would be criminal not to go outside and then, it's Friday and that was our last class. The last of our first week at Hogwarts. It deserves some kind of reward, doesn't it?

Something like a chocolate frog would do it, for example. Charlie, my suddenly favorite brother, should have some he could offload for his beloved little brothers, shouldn't he?

**oO°Oo**

"Now I will talk about the structuring of wanded spells", Strakowski began. "They can be divided into two parts: incantation and wand movement. The latter is acting as a focus, concentrating the magic of its owner in a single point – as long as the target is known – allowing an accurate throw if you are good enough, and an economy of magic and therefore, a greater endurance. Now you must know that the incantation itself is a substitute for runes but less powerful and precise, this is also why there are a lot of variations of the same category of spell. Could you give me an example?"

"The levitation charms. If the object changes so does the incantation even as the wand movement stay the same, which is something I'm not sure I understand, Master", Evan asked, perplexed.

"It's quite simple, really. The wand movement is the translation of an arithmantic sequence in connection with the main purpose of the spell. Thus, the arithmantic sequence can focus on the desired effect, here the levitation, while the incantation focuses on which object, detailing the purpose of the spell. I will explain further."

Strakowki took a deep breath before beginning his explanation. It was vital that Evan understood exactly what was involved in every phase of the various magical processes they would address in their lessons. Strakowski was a staunch supporter that one could only really learn if they had a deep and intimate understanding of the subject before going into practice. It was tedious, often boring but necessary. And he had every intention to detail everything. He knew it was traditionally taught in the advanced stage of education, when the children were near graduation but he had always thought it was a mistake. After all, you do not throw a child into the water without having explained how to swim to him/her, right? Furthermore, young children didn't have preconceived notions about what was possible or not with magic when the adults did.

As such, the Master was convinced that trying to protect children from theories hard to understand wasn't the way you could give them the opportunity to push the boundaries. You needed to give them the tools to break the shackles of known magic. He had to admit that Evan was a fascinating experiment that way. The child was learning diligently and at an impressive speed, exceeding by far his expectations. He already foresaw that they would be done with studying the Nordic runes by Winter Solstice. If not before. Evan truly had a terrifying memory as long as he was interested. You just needed to know how to make it interesting enough to him. He had to probe his natural curiosity, to show him the usefulness of what he was learning. Most of all, he had to challenge him, to provoke and defy him. If you didn't, the boy was just… dissipated.

It was a difficult thing for him to stay sit down for long that's why Strakowski used to often ask him questions, to make him summarize a point of the lesson, to argue with him… It kept the boy's attention on alert which also allowed him to fix what he was learning in his long-term memory. Strakowski taught to Evan everything he considered that was in his ability to teach. He wanted to teach his pupil all of the known arithmantic and runic systems and see how the boy would work with them. He never explained everything, hoping and waiting for the child to find the missing keys he had deliberately left out. He gave little homework, letting the child apply his natural curiosity and he just made sure the boy had prepared their lessons. And, Merlin, how the child was curious. Of History, mainly, and of Runes and Arithmancy, of course. But also of legal and administrative procedures, laws and decrees. The child had asked him to borrow his own books on law, for "recreation". The boy was just weird like that and he sometimes wondered when the child had time to study all of that.

"As for spells, sequences are quite simple as we can split them in two groups: Movement and Action. Movement includes every transfiguration, conjuration and alchemy spells where one modify or change the inner structure of a subject, should it be an object, an animal or a human. Action is about all spells related to an external interaction between the subject of the spell with the one who casts it without any structural change. Here, we can distinguish spells related to offense, defense and service. However, it's not an absolute classification as a service spell can be used as offense or a conjuration as defense for example. It's just in order to give you a general idea."

The boy nodded.

"Now, about the incantation, the language usually used in Central and West Europa is Latin, even if most of the time, it's a derivative Latin rather than a literal Latin. Although Latin is the language the most widespread and that the magical community chose for their exchange of knowledge under first the rule of the romans then by tradition, the local population had tended to appropriate the language to themselves, changing the pronunciation because of their local dialect, some even keeping some words of their original language with some latin-assimilation and vice versa. For example, the service spell "Lumos" comes from the Latin "lumen" or "luminis" which means "light" and which lightens the end of the wand but the local dialect of its inventor changed it to "Lumos". Are you following?" the tutor asked to be sure the boy was still paying him attention. As the child was bent upon his notebook, frenetically writing on it, he went on:

"Now, let me confide a little **_secret_** to you."

Just like that, the boy immediately raised his head. There were some magical words with the child which worked better than any spell, the Master thought, amused.

"Truthfully, a spell incantation isn't really necessary."

The child eyes were greedy and insatiable.

"That's why it is possible to cast the spells wordlessly. The incantation is only a way to describe the effect you're searching for and, as you pronounce it, our brain visualize easily said effect, given more chance for the spell to be cast correctly. In fact, one could use another language and obtain the same effect. What do we deduct from that?" he concluded.

"I'd say…" tried Evan, thinking. "I'd say that the key to cast a spell properly is all about concentration and visualization of the spell itself."

"Absolutely, Evan. However, one doesn't speak about this small "detail" usually. One prefers to let the students learn first the incantations and their effects so they can learn from practical experience which should, theoretically, make the wordless casting easier. What do you think about it?"

"Well, if one concentrates on the words because they think that they are the key to cast the spell instead of the effect of said spell, they will face failure, won't they?"

"That's true but one often forget to explain this to their students because they think that, being familiar with the spell would make it obvious that words are only a crutch."

"And for the arithmantic sequence, Master?" Evan asked, definitively interested.

"In reality, we use generic forms to translate the arithmantic sequences. But we hadn't broached this subject yet" the tutor conceded before his student obvious confusion.

Strakowski then went to the blackboard and began drawing geometrical shapes: a circle, a triangle, a square and lines too. Horizontal, vertical and oblique. It ended with a symbol indicating their derivatives were also to be taken into account such as curved lines, semi-circle and alternative forms, such as rectangle, rhombus, arrow...

"Now, I'd like for you to use the other blackboard to note only the first main numbers in arithmancy and their prime elements", Strakowski ordered.

Evan swiftly stood up and began to write:

1 : Fire

2 : Air

3 : Duality of Mind

4 : Order

5 : Creation

6 : Water

7 : Chaos

8 : Life/Death

9 : Earth

The tutor nodded, satisfied.

"Good. Now, I want you to look at these numbers and split them in geometrical forms."

The boy immediately began by the number 1, identifying the vertical line and the oblique one immediately before thinking and adding the triangle and the semi-arrow. Strakowski was pleased and proud that Evan hadn't fallen in the easy trap. They had spend countless hours learning how to properly draw the numbers for this very motive even if he hadn't say it back then. He let the boy carry on before saying:

"By now you must understand how we move from an arithmantic sequence to a wand movement, mustn't you?" he questioned, amused at the facial expression the boy made. A mixture between amazement that such a great revelation could bring and self scolding to not have found it by himself.

And so many things he had yet to teach him…

**oO°Oo**

"What are you doing?" Draco asked, sitting down beside Evan, under one of the big oaks of Malfoy Manor's park.

"Master Strakowski asked me to write an essay" Evan explained, grimacing.

Although it was rare, his Master sometimes ordered him to write "essays" of an undetermined length on a given subject. The exercise could seem pretty simple but the truth was far more different and frustrating for the boy. As it was, he had to compile all of the information he had been studying on this particular subject and put them in writing following a complicated pattern as imposed by his teacher. It means that he not only had to use all of the known information he had learnt including the proved facts and disputed points but in an argumentative way following a logical and factual reasoning while searching for arguments to sustain his theory. It was obviously tedious as if he wouldn't ever be done with said subject as he had to be as exhaustive as possible. After the first essay of this kind, he had decided to always prepare for such work to smooth his future work if such "essays" were to be given to him after they were done with the object of their lessons.

He disliked these "homeworks" because they were very time consuming and he had to focus on them which means he wouldn't have time for his others studies and it was frustrating. Then, he sometimes felt like this kind of work was useless as they were done with studying the subject. However, he could grudgingly acknowledge that it was definitively interesting. As fastidious as it was, it always made it learn new things, discover points they hadn't cover in class and he eagerly liked going to the library in the hope that he would impress his teacher with his arguments. The last point was a vault key for Evan. He was learning the power of the words, written or oral. He had always known this but never did he have the chance to be taught how to use them properly to his own ends. Strakowski made him perfect his method through essays and debates on class while Narcissa refined him to mix properly his manners with a domineering attitude by not only having the right argument but learning how to put it forward, when, while using posture, position, tone and the like in order to convince others, which was a very much new things to Evan who hadn't, until then, cared about others' opinions.

So, one could say that these essays offered Evan the opportunity to definitively fix the knowledge on his long-term memory, sharpen his skills and giving him all leeway about the way he wanted to broach his essay. It proved to him that his Master trusted him to work alone and to not slack on it. It was the first time that someone – anyone, really – paid attention to what he was doing or not doing. And, if his teacher were to be satisfied with his work then… then, he would talk about it to his father and the Potion Master always mentioned it to him, saying he was glad that Evan was doing well. It was enough to convince Evan to work harder just to hear those words from the mouth of his father. Of course, the Dark Man didn't say he was proud but it was almost there and Evan so much wanted to finally hear them that he would do anything until he was certain that, really, his father was happy to have him as a son. It was almost there, he reassured himself because, sometimes, he doubted but… his father was trying; so he just had to do his very best until then.

That was the reason why he was disappointed with himself as he was staring at his blank paper, not knowing what to write or what direction he should go next.

"Ah! I so understand what you mean" the blond sympathetically nodded. "I, myself, absolutely abhorred those. Sometimes it feels like my tutor tries to make my hand fall off from all this writing", he whined before asking: "What is it about? Maybe I can help you so we could then go to the Quidditch pitch!"

"I must answer this topic: "Nordic runic and arithmantic systems"", Evan distractedly explained, sighing before his blank notebook.

"I won't be of any help then" Draco replied, embarrassed. "I don't study those yet… It's far too advanced for me. I'm not as smart as you are" he bitterly admitted, looking away.

Hearing this, Evan raised himself up.

"Draco?" Evan softly called.

The Malfoy heir crossed the emerald eyes of his friend, ashamed of his jealousy but unable to stop himself from being envious. Evan grabbed his arm, smiling faintly.

"You do know that my father is the youngest Potion Master since the three last centuries, don't you?" He asked softly.

Draco nodded, not understanding where this was going.

"As such, I suppose it would be expected from his heir…. Or that, as a father, he would wish for his son to…follow in his footsteps and I did try, I really did" Evan painfully explained. "But I'm not interested nor do I have the talent to become a Potion Master. And I'm sure that my father is disappointed in me. He said he isn't but I'm certain that he's still not happy with me. So, you see, there's nothing to be jealous of there."

"You're wrong" Draco countered, shocked. "You do well in our potions lessons, and Uncle Severus won't mind if you prefer doing something else than potions. He's proud of you" he said assuredly.

"He never said it though and I can see how he is when you are working together on a potion. You both have a real knack for it and I can't help but feel a bit…excluded. I'm just not into potions so… You see what I mean, don't you?" Evan admitted quietly.

They stayed silent a few moments before Draco hesitantly confessed:

"I'm not interested in politics or economics you know."

At this, Evan raised his head, listening intently his friend.

"As the Malfoy heir, I'm expected to enter the political arena as soon as I will be old enough to do so, participating in official balls and meetings, managing the Estates with my father. I hate it" Draco sighed. "I just want to study potions and charms. I find it boring when father explains who our allies are and who aren't, who owes us favors and who we could try to blackmail. The political games are just plain boring to me. I know father thinks it's just because I'm still young but I can't see myself being a political master scheming as is my father. So, you see, I plainly understand what you mean but… there's something you're forgetting there."

"What is it?" Evan curiously asked disbelief obvious in his voice.

"Our parents love us no matter what we do, the trouble we get in or if we aren't what they expected us to be" Draco firmly said, convincingly. "Maybe I will disappoint my father but he can still hire people to help with the management of the Estates should he need to and I know he's happy when dealing with politics so he can wait for another Malfoy, maybe a grandson or someone else he could mentor like he does with you. I know that what matters the most is my being happy. So, you see, it doesn't matter if you aren't going to be the next youngest Potion Master, you're still very smart and you study all of this boring stuff and all. I know that's something he's certainly very proud of."

"He never said it to me though. That's why I'm working so hard, you know. I love runes and arithmancy but… I'm not the same as you are, Draco. My father adopted me out of duty, not because he really wanted me and I know that he's trying and I'm trying too, you know. I try to be like he would like me to be. I know he likes quietness so I'm as quiet as possible. I keep myself out of trouble and I obey him and I don't bother him with silly questions or asking him things because he gives me everything I need and I shouldn't even complain because he's been giving me all he can even when he's uncomfortable … What I mean is that I want him… I just would like to know if…if…"

Evan stopped there, unable to voice his deepest fear. He soon found himself in Draco's embrace. He stiffened at first before relaxing. It was Draco and Draco was his friend. He was safe. He could be trusted.

"Everything's gonna be okay, Evan" the blond whispered. "You'll see. Just give a bit of time to Uncle Severus, he's not the most expressive man but I know that he cares."

Evan began to smile, relishing in the warmth of his friend but still a bit uneasy, unconvinced.

"So… Are you going to let me study now?" He asked in order to lighten the mood.

Draco released him, a pout firmly in place even if he would never admit it. A Malfoy doesn't pout after all.

"You're a spoilsport, you know that?" He replied haughtily. "Still, one would think that someone as smart as you are would understand that a bit of fun would help you gain some new perspective for your thinking."

Evan sighed.

"Maybe you're right", he admitted before frowning. "Wait… A new perspective?"

"Yes, I'm always right", Draco beamed. "Now come one, I'd like to try a new dive and… Evan?"

But Evan wasn't listening anymore, lost in his thoughts, muttering to himself:

"An angle… a dimension? Surely it couldn't be that simple…. So obvious… But then, it's only logical when you think about it…"

"Evan?" Draco called again.

Evan raised his head and suddenly, beamed to his friend before hugging him tightly and declaring, enthusiast.

"You're a genius, Draco! A pure genius! How could I not see it before! You're the best friend ever!" Evan said while retrieving his notebook and pen from the grass before walking back quickly to the manor while scribbling and whispering frenetically all along, leaving a stunned blond behind him.

"Genius or not, it doesn't seem like I'm going to play Quidditch today" the blond sighed, annoyed.

Not fair.

**oO°Oo**

"The weather is nice, Evan. Would you like to go outside with me?" I asked the boy.

It would be good to take advantage of the fine weather as it wouldn't last for long in the rude Scotland. I got a free half hour in my overbooked schedule. This week had been a nightmare to organize and I'm pretty tired. I didn't spend much time with Evan except for our morning walks outside and our meals in the Great Hall. He spent most of his time with his tutor and I did let him join my last classes of the day so he wouldn't be left alone after his tutor's departure. Until it was time for his violin work, so he would go back to our quarters to practice what I called in my mind "Musical torture". Merlin blessed all of the creators of silencing spells. Still, I feel a bit guilty for not having found time for him as I'd promised myself to do.

He smiles brightly to my meager offer, deepening my guilty feelings that a boy could be so overjoyed with something so common.

"To the lake outside or do you want to go to our secret garden?"

As I said the word "our", I knew what he would choose.

"Our garden, father. With the swings" he shyly answered.

"Then, lead the way."

I let him put away his book and his things in his room before letting him open the passage leading to the garden.

**oO°Oo**

That's just wicked! With Georges, we were going to the lake but, on our way, I lost my balance and I gripped the first thing I could. It was the end of a spear. I believe it belongs to Strongcry the Howler and it opened a secret passageway. Bill and Charly did warn us that there were a lot of these things at Hogwarts but this one, we did find it all by ourselves! No need to talk about it, Georges has got the same sparkle in his eyes as I do. A passageway… it calls for exploration, by Griffindor's beard! It's narrow and dark. We grope along as we could. It's going up, I think. Finally, we reach a point where a little light was going through an arrow slit. My brother and I looked through it, to see where we are exactly and how good the view could be.

Far away, we can see the Forbidden Forest but beside that, there's nothing else interesting to see apart from the stone walls of the castle. Georges gasps and my eyes follow where he was looking. They widen. There is… a garden, just down there. A small garden with flowers, many flowers on its borders and grass in the center but that's definitively not the strangest thing there. There is the most bizarre thing I've ever seen in the middle of the lawn, like a reversed wooden "U" letter with two ropes hanging down to it and which tied a wooden plank between them. I don't see what use that could have and Georges doesn't seem to know better. Suddenly, the door, which was the probable access to the garden, opens and I feel like I'm hallucinating.

I believe my eyes did try to escape to join my jaw on the floor as I didn't think it could be possible to surprise me to such an extent. This is Professor Snape which is entering the garden, followed by Evan and… I think I need to go to Pomfresh because there's no doubt now that I'm hallucinating. The most feared teacher of Hogwarts, the scathing tongue which makes Hufflepuffs first years cry their eyes out, make seventh years Ravenclaws feel stupid and ignorant is… playing with his son? Georges is as incredulous as I am. We look at the surrealist scene before us. Evan had sat down on the strange wood plank and the professor… what is he doing? He's gonna make him fall!

I refrain from yelling to warn him. The plank moves and raises in the air. Evan is facing us but I'm sure he can't see us where we are. Evan, the professor's son, is smiling. I was under the impression that he didn't know how to do it, just like his father seemed to only know to sneer, smirk or make you feel really really small. Snape pushes more and more and the plank, and Evan, rises in the sky. Then, the professor conjures himself a chair and sit down, looking at his son who's still smiling. Suddenly, I feel like an intruder, embarrassed to be there, spying such an intimate moment. Georges is still fascinated but I grab him to go on with our exploration. We go up once more.

"Did you see that?" Georges excitedly whispered. "Can you believe it? It's just… Can you really believe it? Wait until we tell Lee!"

"I don't know, Georges" I countered, ill at ease. "We weren't meant to see that."

"All the more reason! Can you imagine that: the greasy git, the overgrown bat of the dungeons, the Hufflepuffs own private nightmare was playing under the sun, surrounded by pretty flowers like… like… help me there!"

"Like any father?" I lightly suggest.

This seems to bring my brother down the earth, deflating him.

"Yeah… You're right… We don't talk about it to anyone, ok ?" he awkwardly offered.

"No and then… it would kill the myth, wouldn't it?" I maliciously added.

"So right you are, dear Gred!"

We laugh before I ask, more seriously – well, as serious as I can get anyway – my dear brother:

"So, my dear Forge, how do we get out of there?"

**oO°Oo**

I've decided to teach outside today. Evan was far too distracted by the new project I allowed him to conduct to concentrate long enough on a lecture about the history of the flame-freezing charm. I guess I'm at fault there. I should have known that giving him the opportunity to create his first runic and arithmantic sequence was going to close up everything else from his mind. This boy is a mystery. He's a natural when it came down to arithmancy, something he claims come from the muggle "mathematics" whatever that could be. I must admit that I'm impressed by how easy he can progress with this approach. He showed me the basics but I must admit that it just doesn't make sense to me. Well, as long as it helps him and follow the arithmancy's rules…

The sun shines but the weather is cold and I regret having forgotten my hat in the classroom. I can't bear the cold anymore since the Katorga. I've been cold for so long there. Evan is easily cold too. He's so thin. I know his father takes care of that but he's still frail. I made sure he was warm enough before going out, with scarf and mittens. There are students out, attracted too by the last good days before the fall of the rough Scotland winter. They throw us curious glances but no one dares disturbing us. It's better that way. We go away from them, near the forbidden forest where we'll still find enough flora to keep us busy.

I was about to begin my lecture on trees and their runic symbolism when something fell near us. It's a fledgling, one of those who fail their first flight because they weren't ready and yet wanted to try. That and the fact that it was late in the season for delicately collects the little bird in his hands and look at me, his eyes pleading. I sigh and take a look to the little thing. It seems to have broken a wing, it's not going to fly anytime soon. It squeals loudly, it's obvious it's in pain and the face of Evan make me understand that I wasn't going to teach anything to my pupil until this feathered problem was taken care of. I sigh once more before hearing me say:

"We should go to the Groundskeeper, Hagrid. He should know a lot about how to care of injured animals, I guess."

Evan nods, a little smile playing in the corner of his lips. He keeps firmly but carefully the small bird against his chest, protecting it from the weather and from injuring farther itself in its blind panic. This is one of the few moments when I remember that, despite his obvious maturity and intelligence, Evan is still a child. An innocent one. My Elena was kind too, she was able to see beauty in the iced desert we lived in the Katorga. Then, they made her lost this sparkle in her eyes and she never smiled again. She died with the same eyes that Evan wore sometimes, when he lets his guard down. Too old, too hurt. For Evan, there's still hope so I will gladly indulge him. It's difficult to say no to him, he's a good kid. The hut is located between the lake and the forest. Once before the door, I raise a hand and knock. The groundskeeper is surprised by our arrival but doesn't hesitate to let us inside once I finished explaining why we've come.

He's not alone. There is something like tea and… is that rocks? Around the wooden table sat two identical red heads with large smiles on their faces. I nod to them, looking at my pupil who's suddenly shy. It doesn't seem to bother the two twins red haired boys who are sitting around the half-giant table. They grin and stare openly as they introduce themselves. I don't recall what name they gave; they will be Red 1 and Red 2 to me. Evan waves toward them too before focusing back on his protégé. Hagrid takes him delicately from Evan's arms and put it in, what I suppose to be, a shoe box with a litter made of cotton. For a man this big, his moves are quite precise as he put a plaster on the wing of the bird and feed him a bit of a healing potion. As Hagrid invites us to join, I don't have time to decline that Evan turns to me, asking:

"May I stay a bit with the bird, Master?" he politely asks his eyes bright with hope.

How do you say no to that? Still, I hesitate to leave him alone even if it would let me retrieve my hat from where I forgot it. Finally, Red 1 pushes it, saying:

"We can walk Evan back, sir" he confidently says as the other frenetically approves. "We know the dungeons very well, you know!"

I look to Evan. He bites his lower lips before nodding quietly. I decide to compromise:

"I'm going back to the castle to retrieve my hat. I will join you on the way to the library as it seems you can't concentrate much today."

The boy lowers his head, blushing. I add:

"You'll study for your project there."

Immediately, Evan nods enthusiastically while the red haired twins stare incredulously at him. I pay my farewell and leave. While closing the door, I hear one of them asks Evan:

"Is it true that your tutor is an escaped prisoner from Azkaban?"

I laugh all the way to the castle, scaring the students away.

Children.

**oO°Oo**

After the departure of the impressing – and slightly scaring – tutor of Evan, me and Georges got closer from the box where was the injured bird, listening to Hagrid as he explained how the bird would have to stay at least for the next two weeks before being able to fly away. The bird seems calmer now, probably due to the calming draught Hagrid gave it. Evan carefully pets the small head of the bird. It's strange to see him so close. He's really pale and thin and small compared to Ronnie. Once Hagrid is finished with healing the bird as much as possible, we lead Evan back to the castle. He's so shy. It's difficult to get anything else than a nod or shook of his head. The few words he talks let us hear a small voice, filled with softness but intelligence too. It's obvious he's smart but he doesn't brag about it.

I did tell him so. He blushed.

Me and Georges joke all along the way, trying to have Evan going out of his shell. Still, we're careful, we don't want to scare him away. Finally, he begins to smile a bit, just a tiny smile but still… This is a new victory for the Extraordinary Pranksters Twins or E.P.T.! We talk about Griffindor, our jokes, how we want to be professional pranskters and all. He listens, really listen, even asking us questions as if he really is interested. No one ever took us seriously when we explained our project. It feels nice. I don't know how it went wrong. As we were walking through an empty corridor and then, three Ravenclaw students arrived and things just went wild. One of them, a blond boy with a cruel smile taunts Evan:

"So, this is Snape's brat?" he sniggers.

"He's as ugly as is his father, we should remedy to that. It would only be justice after all, to not impose such ugliness anymore" the one at the right cruelly said, sneering.

"Because of your stupid father, I won't be a Healer and Henry and Desmond won't be able to postulate to the aurors force. We're gonna make sure he understands that his actions have consequences" the third one, a bulky guy with short brownish hair, said.

They raise their wands. It's bad. I look at Georges who nods at me. We can't fight the three older students but maybe we can distract them long enough so Evan could flee. We rush at the Ravenclaw boys, while I yell to Evan to run. We are quickly pushed out of the way but it had indeed given time to Evan. He runs fast and is almost at the end of the corridor, just at the turn where are the stairs when the spells casts by our offenders reach him, pushing him through the empty space of the stairs. There's no cry, no sound. Just the silence. The Ravenclaws turn to us but they don't have time to do anything as they are bound with ropes. A group of students has intervened, led by Charlie. I'm relieved but the first thing I do is to go to Evan, Georges by my side.

Evan is down the stairs, unmoving.

His left leg is bent in an abnormal angle and there's blood around his head. More people come to stare at the scene, curious. Gratowski or Mistroski,- or whatever his name is - comes, followed by Snape who, when he recognizes his son on the floor, picks a sprint. He kneels beside Evan, casting what I suppose is a diagnosis spell. Madam Pomfrey arrives then too and begins to cast healing spell while Snape gives potions to Evan. Then, as Madam Pomfrey asks for Snape to leave Evan to her in the hospital wing, Snape categorically refused. Then he delicately takes Evan in his arms, making sure to not injure him further and begins to leave, the crowd respectfully parting to let them go. However, he turns a last time toward Charlie, asking in a chilly voice:

"Mr Weasley, would you be so kind as to make sure that those – he points the three Ravenclaw – reach the Headmaster's office safely and that Professor Flitwick is informed of the situation?"

Charlie solemnly nods. Snape turns back before stopping to add:

"Mr Wealsey? ... Make sure they wait for me."

After that, Charlie insists with Madam Pomfrey that we go to the infirmary. I don't refuse nor do I protest. I'm just… under shock I suppose. It's so… I can't make up my mind about what happened. Not really. I mean, they had a problem with Snape, not Evan, so why did they do that to Evan? Evan is nice and so frail, that's not fair that they would target him. He couldn't protect himself. I mean, Madam Pomfrey says that he just had a fractured leg and a slight commotion but it could have been worse. If he had fallen just a bit harder, he could have… he could have… died. I welcome the sleeping draught because I just want to stop thinking about what almost happened.

That's just…unfair.

**oO°Oo**

"They almost killed my son!" I said in a low tone that perfectly conveys my rage.

I don't remember the last time I've been so angry. I can feel my magic react, trying to reach for something, anything that could focus all of this ire that makes me shiver as I force my mind to keep it under control.

"I don't deny that what they did is bad but they are young, and angry… they made a mistake, something that they surely already regret…" the Headmaster begins.

"Of course, they regret it!" I exclaimed, furious. "They were caught!"

"Now, now, Severus" the Headmaster sternly states, "You mustn't let your personal involvement interfere here. They will be punished accordingly to the gravity of their act…"

"Expelled, Albus. Expelled" I countered icily. "They will be expelled if you really want to "punish" them accordingly to what they've done."

"Severus, my boy, you've been their age, you've been more than once in trouble for fighting in the corridors…"

"This is low, Albus. You know it was war and that I didn't have a choice back then. These three had it and they chose to be criminals" I exclaimed, indignant.

"Criminals, Severus? You're letting your anger talks there, Severus. I don't think they really thought of the possible consequences of their attack nor did they really want to hurt Evan. They are still young and they deserve to have a second chance to repair their mistake. I promise you that they will serve detentions for all of the duration of the year and they will be put on probation until graduation."

"No, Albus" I insist firmly. "You will expel them. Three sixth years against two first year and a wandless child doesn't deserve anything else than expulsion."

"Severus…"The Headmaster tries again, sighing.

But he couldn't continue as Filius, who had stayed silent until now, decides to speak up:

"I think Severus is right, Albus."

I feel a huge amount of surprise. Never once a member of the staff did take my side. Never.

"We cannot condone what they did Albus. With Severus reputation, it was bound to happen."

I growled but Filius calms me down, explaining:

"I don't say this is your fault, Severus. You have high standards for your students and this is something I respect but you must admit that you're not really liked because of that. If we don't put a stop to this kind of attack by making of them an example, it will just serve to put a huge target on Evan's back and we cannot do this to the child. He deserves to not live in fear of being attacked and Severus pointed something that you seem to have overlooked, Headmaster…"

"What is it, Filius?" Albus tiredly asked.

"Evan could have died. It was fortunate that he didn't but we can't forget that and I agree with Severus that we can't condone such violence inside this school."

"We could suspend them for a month, and put them under probation until graduation, with detentions for the rest of the year" Albus suggests as a last resort.

Filius nods but it's still not enough in my books.

"No. Expulsion. Period."

I will stick to that until I obtain what I want and what I want is justice. Not for myself but for Evan.

"Severus, you, more than any other, know that everyone deserves a second chance" he tries to guilty me.

It only makes me angrier, if possible.

"If they aren't expelled, Albus, you will have to face the press and subsequently furious parents who will want explanations in regards of the security Hogwarts provides to its students and, yes I will dare to, Albus!" I icily states, my voice no higher than a whisper but letting them clearly know how determined I am. "If they haven't left by tomorrow morning, Albus, then I will" I finish calmly.

"You would leave Hogwarts, your position and your slytherins?" Albus asks, shocked.

"Yes" I flatly confirmed.

The Headmaster sits down, defeated.

"I suppose I have no other choice then…"

As I go back to the dungeons, I don't feel like I won an important battle. Though I did obtain the expulsion, I know Albus will push for their enrollment to Durmstrang or Beauxbâtons and will make sure that their records won't be soiled with their deeds as it could have threatened their future careers. Furthermore, Filius did point something I didn't anticipate. I didn't think that the students' hatred towards me could extend to Evan. I did think about my former "associates" of course, and all of the adults that resent me or hates me because of my past but I didn't even imagine that something like that could happen at Hogwarts. I promised to Evan, and to myself, that I would protect him against everything and everyone but… it wasn't enough. Sure, I knew that something was going on because of the pendant but I was too late. From now on, Evan won't go anywhere without at least an adult with him.

I'm really not good at this parenting thing.

Deep inside, I feel like a failure to my promise.

Lily.

**oO°Oo**

Evan woke up a few hours later. He didn't say anything nor did he cry. I explained what happened after he fainted. He just lowered his head, his face closed. I did make it clear that it wasn't his fault and that the culprits had been expelled. I don't want him to feel guilty for something that was out of his control. I'm the first who intimately can know and understand how abused children tend to think that everything bad happening to them is their faults. I'm not at ease, I'm not sure if I did find the right words with Evan or if they affected him the way I hope they should. I'm, once again, at a loss. I don't know what Evan expects from me. A hug? Verbal reassurance?

Finally, I just told him to rest and to call for me should he need something. As I closed the door of Evan's room, I heard something that made me shiver:

"I hate them. I want them to pay."

I know of Evan's dark side. You cannot live the life he had without growing one. A bitter, angry and cruel dark side. This is not healthy but what can I do? I know what I did with mine and I don't want Evan to follow this path but what can I say? I know that the Evan I live with is a mask, behaving like a good boy to please me, I suppose. Underneath, there is a boy that have been hurt, that is angry and that didn't hesitate to cut his own wrists. He's very determined and focused and I know what he's thinking about: revenge. I know that he hate his attackers, not because of the fact they did attack him but because they made him feel weak, helpless. I don't know how to address this.

Maybe I should talk to a mind healer.

Classes had been cancelled until tomorrow. It seems that it did encourage the infamous Griffindor bravery as I found three of them, one Charlie Weasley and his two twin terrors of young brothers, in front of my door, asking for news of Evan. As the two red-haired twins did protect Evan to their own peril, I don't have much of a choice except to answer their query. Still, they will not be granted entrance to my quarters. This is the only place I'm students free and it won't be sacrificed lightly. They ask me how is Evan, one of the twin asks when they will be able to see him and I don't know what to say. I didn't know that Evan had made friends with some of the students here.

I didn't even think to ask. On our morning walks, we stay mostly silent. I found it comfortable but maybe Evan didn't dare to speak to me. When Charlie Weasley explains that they met the very same afternoon, I feel relieved even if I can't help but doubting the trust Evan has toward me. Once I promised to ask Evan to meet the twins when he will be recovered, the Weasley take their leave, letting me think about my relationship with Evan. It's still pretty young but still, I feel like I didn't do the right thing or take the good decisions. It's tiring to always worry but I can't give up now.

I made a promise, after all.

**oO°Oo**

"And that's where I understood that each figure can be connected to a geometrical shape even if it was pretty much obvious that the flat ones don't relate all of their possibilities since we live in a multidimensional world. As such, by using dimensional geometrical shapes and linear equations in a complex system of pre-done calculations, we can put in place a network of interlinked runic systems related to the arithmantic pre-defined objective" the boy excitedly explained, proud to share what he had found with his master.

He went on:

"And the best point is that multidimensional shapes permit to create chains with other geometrical systems as long as the arithmantic sequences are compatible but, since the shapes are various, the possibilities are almost endless as long as the final geometrical shape reuniting all of the others systems stay true to the same main core equation that rule the others sequences."

Evan's enthusiasm dampens a bit as he stated, frowning:

"However, I still couldn't find how to fix the issue in regards of the inevitable fragmentation thus created; I can't seem to find a shape that could rationalize them."

There, the boy sighed before admitting:

"I must apologize, Master. I suppose I failed to meet your expectations."

After a moment, not hearing anything from his master, Evan did raise his head, apprehensive to his tutor reactions. He hadn't wanted to disappoint Master Strakowski. He really did search but couldn't find anything that could be used to fill the empty spaces and stabilize the global shape when the shapes didn't perfectly connect. However, his master's face was strange. There was no disappointment there but a strange emotion that shouldn't be there. Pride. Strakowski took many great breathes before saying, the voice thick:

"Evan… If what you explained to me works… By Veles' light[1], you have no idea! We only ever used sequences that have already been approved and the only experimentation done is by using the "try and try again" method. No one ever thought that a global way of processing the sequences could exist. And by using muggle mathematics!"

Evan, definitively alarmed, asked:

"What does it mean, Master?"

Strakowski laughed, his rough voice echoing in the classroom:

"It means that you are no longer my student, Evan" He raised an amused brow as his student face fell. "It means that you're going to be my apprentice, Evan and that you're so not going to get rid of me until you get your Mastery."

"Really?" Evan incredulously asked.

"I'll speak tomorrow with your father" Strakowski replied, as he calmed himself.

Evan let a small frown on his face. Maybe his father would be as proud as his master was…

"Now, would you be so kind as to explain to your old Master how you built these equations in an arithmantic sequence as it seems I will have to learn about these muggle…mathematics" Strakowski probed.

Evan began to detail the process of forming what would be called later as the "SAPAR" or the "Snape's Arithmantical Process Applied to Runes".

**oO°Oo**

Albus approached the classroom, stopping before the door. He decided to listen for a moment before letting his presence be known. He had to admit being curious about the content of the boy's lessons. He couldn't make his mind about Severus' son. He could acknowledge that he hadn't been really welcoming to Severus' new parenthood responsibilities as he was his only spy in the Inner Circle. He had feared that Severus wouldn't want to assume his spy duties anymore because of that but he shouldn't have feared because it seemed that Severus hadn't even thought about it which greatly reassured him. The second reason which had made him hesitant regarding the adoption had been the danger it would put Evan under. As it was, due to Severus position, one could expect that the boy would be "asked" to receive the Dark Mark upon Voldemort's return but the Potion Master had explained to him that he had put securities in place should the need arise and he had no reason to doubt him.

Still, he meant to convince Severus to create a contact with the Weasley family. After all, Evan seemed to get along with the Weasley twins anyway so he was almost sure that he would get his way in the end. Then the boy would be welcomed in the family to protect him if Severus' plans were to be proved ineffective. Furthermore, he wanted to preserve the child from the wrong influences. Severus had always loved to learn and practice the Dark Arts, he never hid that fact but Dumbledore wouldn't let him promote this kind of education toward Evan, even if he was to use Severus guilty feelings to do so. Even if Evan's tutor had been a political prisoner and not a Death Eater, he still came from a country where Dark Arts were still commonly taught. Dumbledore disapproved of such courses and he very well meant to make it plainly known to said tutor.

He had spent the last decades to ban all practices and courses related to the Dark Arts in Hogwarts, even those which were deem "innocent". Letting a door half-open would only lead to it not being able to be closed. It had been a long fight but he had his famous reputation behind him to back him up in his difficult crusade. And so, he had obtained what he wanted as a result, bit by bit through the years. He wouldn't let the innocent minds of the children who were under his tutelage and guidance being perverted by this dangerous knowledge as it had been the case with Gellert and Tom. The library had been purged and all the related books put in the restricted section. The syllabus had been revised too. Dumbledore wanted for the students to enjoy their time at Hogwarts, to make friends and take their time to grow up and not being under the pressure of the strain of constant studies. As such the studies were now limited to the basics and core subjects. Students had time to learn more when they would have chosen their career after all.

That's why he was concerned by the busy schedule Severus put up for his son's studies. It was far much too loaded in his mind. Children were meant to play outside, to spend time with their friends and not stay locked up for hours to learn only Merlin knows what. Severus had just said that he would be taught everything that Evan would need in order to go to school when he would reach the age of eleven. He cast the sound amplification spell so he would hear everything that was going on in this classroom. Strakowski's voice rose, his strong accent rolling on the consonants and slightly changing the vowels' sound.

"Now, I would like for you to summarize your essay about the differences between magics."

Albus tensed and decided to interrupt. He knocked and entered without waiting the answer.

"Hello!" he cheerfully exclaimed. "I apologize for interrupting but I was curious to see how the lessons went. I hope I'm not intruding?"

The tutor only gestured him to sit down before ignoring him totally in order to fully report his attention on his student who just shrugged. Once he was settled, the lesson went on:

"I researched what kind of magic there was and I found many classifications, like blood magic, runic magic, ritual magic but the most prominent were about Light and Dark magic so I went to try to find a definition to understand what was put behind these notions. However, I couldn't find a neat, concise and immutable definition for them. In fact, what I found is that said definitions changed through time, depending of the context or who's in power."

"And what do you conclude?" the tutor asked.

Dumbledore was listening closely now.

"I think that the issue is related to the approach itself which categorize the spells as allowed or forbidden and which ones are to be classified as dark or light" the child quietly replied.

Hearing that, Albus felt that he had to put his two knuts in:

"If I may be allowed, I can explain this to Evan" he offered, without noticing the disapproving eyes of the tutor. "In fact, there are spells which are naturally dark by their own nature, because they either physically or mentally hurt their victims, so it is the duty of the Wizenmagot to ban them and punish their users."

"I'm sorry Headmaster but I can't agree with you on this point", Evan cut, frowning. "A Leviosa on the edge of a cliff or a locking legs spell when one is on top of stairs can kill or hurt as easily as other spells you think as dark but that are still allowed and considered light as of today" Evan firmly countered.

"Maybe" Dumbledore vaguely acknowledged. "However, the Unforgivables and others spells specifically used for the purpose of torture are to be banned from our society, don't you agree?" he asked, not liking the way the child's mind was working. He would have to talk to Severus about it.

"No, I don't", the child replied, non impressed. "The killing curse, for example, has been created to relieve the ill ones in the final stage of incurable diseases so they would have a dignified and peaceful end. The Apertum Pectus spell which open the thorax is classified as dark when it was meant for healers to operate before we were to know how to heal internal injuries without opening the patients. There is not, in my opinion, light, dark or good and bad magic, only the intentions of those who casts the spell and that's why classifying the spells is not relevant. The approach is wrong. It's the people, their intent and not the spells whom should be condoned" Evan concluded.

"You're still a bit young to form an educated opinion about such serious things" the headmaster reasoned. "This is a much more complicated thing that one young mind cannot grasp yet. When you'll be older, I'll explain everything in more detail if you're still interested that is" he graciously offered, trying to do some "damage control".

He couldn't let the child on this. He wouldn't let the child lost himself in the Dark Arts. He really will have to talk with Severus. He turned to the tutor, weighing his reaction. The man just shrugged, saying:

"I never interfere with Evan's opinion; I only try to make him research and questions the facts so he could form his own and I don't think it needs to wait being older to do so."

"Anyway, Evan is still quite young to broach such delicate subject, without the necessary experience and guidance (Strakowski frowned at this) to properly understand such a serious matter."

"You keep saying that I'm too young to understand but you still hadn't given me arguments to counter mines. Do you even have one?" Evan pointed.

"Evan, this classification is understood and accepted by most of the wizarding world" replied the headmaster. "As imperfect as it may be, it permits to gather people around common values in order to protect our world from a magic based upon ones suffering. As it is, the members of the Wizenmagot have to use their compassion to do what is right and bane this kind of magic. We could choose to punish the individuals instead but it would be an open door to chaos as the free use of these magic would lead to temptation and then addiction which cannot be controlled and thus, protect the citizens from them."

"So, it's the fear of a bad use and the problems that could eventually happen with addiction which leads you to ban these kinds of magic" Evan summarized, incredulous.

"It's a preventive measure. Nothing good goes out of the Dark Arts, Evan" the headmaster concluded, satisfied and convinced that the child had finally understood what was right and wrong. Dumbledore bid them farewells and went out. Once he was out, Strakowski turned over his student whom had a pensive expression on his face.

"What do you think, child?" he asked.

"I do think that as long as all decisions in the higher sphere of the magical world are done either out of fear, ignorance or personal interests, we won't evolve and change as we should. I find it sad and… kind of stupid."

"What do you think could make people change their attitude?" the tutor probed.

"Well, a massive campaign against blackmail and bribery would be an obvious start. Then, all that would be left would be education but that would be difficult to put in place as it would require teaching the young ones and the adults at the same time. It would be a huge task that would need support. One that anyone couldn't succeed in if alone."

"How would you proceed?" Strakowski curiously asked.

"Well…"

**oO°Oo**

To keep his promise to Evan, Lucius had decided to organize regular visits to the Ministry so he could teach the boy how it was run. He would turn in all of the main services where he could make the young boy benefit of his experience and advices. To his regret, Draco had turn down his offer to come with them, choosing to stay at the Manor for his lessons with his tutor and, as he hated his lessons, it wasn't that difficult to understand that politics weren't his heir cup of tea, to his despair. He still hoped that it would change as Draco would grow older and that he would be able to transmit his knowledge to him. Severus had accepted to entrust Evan to him under the condition that his tutor would come with them. The man himself was creepy in his opinion but he was to admit that he was a good protector, watching Lucius every move and keeping an eye on Evan. As it was, Master Strakowski closely followed them, slightly behind so Lucius and Evan coup open the way, the oldest leading the youngest in the maze that was the Ministry while discoursing:

"Politics is all about one own personal sphere of influence. The last one depends of: a well known and preferably respected name, to be born in a good and old family but that's not all of it. I will take Dumbledore as an example. He is a half-blood whose family hadn't had a good reputation at the beginning what with the imprisonment of the father in Azkaban for having tortured some muggles."

Evan, who hadn't known this, took some more notes on his notebook, thoughtful.

"His father left them mostly knutless and so, one could have thought that he wouldn't go far with such a past but even I could admit that he did reverse the situation quite nicely. Firstly, he was a very bright student in Hogwarts which made him being noticed by the famous Nicolas Flamel who took him under his wing for around five years during which they achieved to find all of the twelve properties of dragon's blood, then he chose to become a transfiguration professor after gaining his mastery. However, he really did gain his politic power when he defeated Grindelwald – do you know who he is?" Lucius asked before going on as Evan nodded. "The Ministry decorated him with an Order of Merlin, first class. For a moment, he refused to go in politics even as he now then owned a seat and chose to go back to teaching but, even after five years, his popularity hadn't lowered so he began to go to the Wizenmagot sessions. People then would begin to go to him for advices, to make him support one a law, another one a decree; his choices leading the others in following them, due to their awe of him or because they are all a bunch of mindless people, I still do not know" Lucius regretfully sighed. "His late involvement made him look like a modest and wise person and so, he was elected as Chief Warlock only two years after he began to invest himself in politics. Many respected people supported him in presenting himself as Supreme Mugwump at the ICW and so he became a major figure in our world. A brilliant move if I ever saw one" Lucius concluded. "Do you understand what I mean?" the Malfoy patriarch asked.

"I think I do" Evan softly replied. "If a person is… talented enough and cunning enough to make the good connections at the right time, then it's possible for him or her to reach the higher circles of the society even as the original conditions were unfavorable isn't it?"

"Exactly, Evan" Lucius approved before moving on: "In order to build your own network of useful connections, you have many means in your hands. You could simply wait to be noticed by your talent alone – which require to be exceptionally gifted – or you could benefit from others' connections from people you're close with, during social events like a ball or you could… wait and watch. For example" he said, pointing to people away from them "what you could you say about those two?"

Lucius was surprised and shivered as Evan blanked his face, his face betraying nothing except for his eyes which were looking at the two people he had pointed with a calculating coldness so casual that it reminded him of a predator eying its prey. Like it was something natural. It certainly wasn't and one look to Evan's tutor showed him that he wasn't the only one affected. A child should never look like this. After a minute, Evan began to speak his voice dull and void of any emotion:

"They both work at the Ministry as they both wore the Ministry insignia upon their robes. He has an important office, maybe a secretary or under-secretary if the color and quality of his robe fabric says anything. He thinks highly of himself and likes to brag about his position because you can see all of his probably useless medals he's wearing on the front of his robe. Still it makes him feel important so he can flaunt his status to anyone who has to listen to him. He likes his power and uses it whenever he feels he can get away with it. He's quite old and far from being fit which explains how much he's sweating all over and is keeping his handkerchief in his hand. Actually, he uses his power on the young woman here. She seems quite young, she must have recently graduated and it's obvious it's her first job. Her clothes are of good quality but not the best, she probably bought them for work only and, in order to keep them fine as long as possible, she probably won't wear them outside of her work. It's obvious she hasn't got much money and treasures the few good things she has because her shoes are rather old and used and she bears cheap jewels. She also doesn't like the other man at all. Look how close he is and how she refrains herself from backing a few steps. He has a hold upon her. She either works for him or has the power to get her fired. See how he had just placed his hand on her arm? She's stopping herself from grimacing but doesn't try to free her arm from his grip. Look the way her free hand holds the pendant around her neck. That's something she's taking comfort from, something precious to her which help her in her resolve to not stop this man. It's obvious she can't afford to lose her job and he knows that or maybe he has something else to hold against her, I don't know. He won't stop from harassing her until he's got what he wants, probably some sexual favor. He likes to play this, it's probably not the first time he does so and as nothing ever stopped him before, he will do it again. Once he had what he wanted, he will get her fired or force her to resign so she will be knutless and totally humiliated and unable to plead her case as she'll felt at fault by degrading herself to accept his advances."

Then, Evan went back to his usual neutral expression before turning to Mr Malfoy who was both impressed and ill at ease by the clear and disturbing information the boy had gathered in so little time.

"I don't see anything else to say, M Malfoy, as I don't know either their names or personal history. Did I miss something?" the boy politely inquired, his eyes full of hidden glee.

He could only shake his head, only now realizing that he had been played – once again – by a nine years old boy who had the potential to be either a formidable ally or a fearsome enemy.

He didn't want to imagine what the boy had guessed from him.

**oO°Oo**

In the end, there wasn't any other "incidents" with the Hogwarts' students. Evan always was either with himself or Strakowski. He also allowed him to see the Weasley terrors – they already made a reputation of troublemakers for themselves - as long as their brother Charlie was with them. Evan liked the twins, saying that they were funny. Still, they'd better keep their nose out of trouble in his classroom. They would come in their quarters (only the living-room, the bathroom and Evan's room) and stay with Evan after the end of their lessons every Tuesday and Friday evening. For Halloween, or rather Samhain, he did bring Evan to James and Lily's graves. Then, they went back to Hogwarts to perform a ritual advised by Narcissa to honor the dead's spirits. Nothing complicated. Just a fire in the hearth to realize the ritual with an offering and a prayer to the dead, gods and goddesses of magic.

He offered a roses' bouquet made of asphodels (meaning regrets from the past), everlasting flowers (eternal regrets), ivies (eternal love/friendship), periwinkles (sweets memories) with white lilies harvested in their private garden (purity, chaste love, nobility) in remembering of his late mother and of Lily of course. He wrote two letters with that. To his mother, he wrote « I forgive you ». To Lily, he could only think of one thing: "Forgive me". Evan had been educated to the secret language of the flowers by Narcissa so he could choose his bouquet all by himself. His was different with white anthuriums (shyness), artemisia (absence), belladonna (silence), bellflowers (gratefulness), honeysuckle (bond, faithfulness), chrysanthemums (to honor the dead), pink roses (happiness, tenderness) and hawthorn (cautious hope). He also had written a letter but Severus didn't ask what was inside.

It was personal after all.

They sang the traditional prayer and threw their offerings in the fire with their letters. Severus never did follow the old ways before so he was as much a beginner as Evan was but he could admit that he had found the experience… fascinating. He had felt like a shiver during the ritual and then, for around one hour after, nor he or Evan had felt like talking, just sitting on the sofa, facing the fire. It was the first time he didn't felt uncomfortable as Evan cuddled against him, being almost at peace, as if all of his walls had fallen. He had made the most of it as peace wasn't something he usually felt in his tormented life. He knew his snakes were doing the very same in the privacy of the dungeons, on their own way, some using apples, others incenses. No matter what was used as long as the fire accepted the prayer.

Still, the experience had gotten the father and the son closer.

Now that the Winter Solstice was approaching, Severus was thinking of a surprise for Evan's holidays. He already had informed his prefects of his absence. He would stay available in case of emergencies of course, the prefects had a knut spelled to call for him should the need ever arise. Now, he just had to inform his colleagues and Albus. The staff meeting was, as usual, a never-ending thing. Who showed the most promise? Who had scholar problems which required help and attention? Who had difficulty in settling? Who was a troublemaker? On the last point, the Weasley twins easily won by a big margin but he could acknowledge that they were rather creative and that their pranks weren't meant to hurt or humiliate the weak. Furthermore, they were… bearable students in his classroom.

And then… Evan liked them.

"Now, in regards of Christmas planning" Albus interrupted. "Pomona volunteered herself to stay with Severus for the holidays and…"

"I'm not staying this year, Albus" he stated, angry. "Thank you for asking."

"But Severus, you always stayed for the holidays before, there's no reason to change that" Albus countered, a hint of a reproach in his voice.

"That's true I always stayed before" he nodded. "However – he could see Albus' face go tense – as I let one of my colleagues escape their turn every year, I would like to be the one to do so for once" he calmly explained.

"Severus, my boy" – he cringed – "as you said yourself, you always did stay so you must understand that your colleagues have all already planned their holidays. It wouldn't be fair on them to force them to change their plans."

"But it would be fair on me? », he asked, fuming. « I have my own plans with Evan; you just had to ask before making the decisions without my consent. »

« Hogwarts' Christmas are wonderful, Severus" Albus serenely offered. "I'm quite sure that Evan will love the Great Hall decorating and he won't be alone as there are some students who will stay this year."

"No" he firmly stated.

Albus had to give in when Filius offered to stay.

These last months, the headmaster had taken an unhealthy interest in his personal affairs, including Evan. He supposed it was linked to Harry Potter golem's death. Albus had begun to push for answers about Evan: When was he born? Did he like Hogwarts? Why wouldn't he go and visit the Weasleys as he seems to get along with the twins? They had a son his age after all, they could make great friends… He even dared to express his disapprobation about what Strakowski was teaching his son. Severus did have a talk with said tutor about the headmaster's "visit". About the Dark Arts teaching, certainly. He didn't want Evan to learn the Dark Arts. Not yet, at least. He knew he was no example but he could acknowledge his youth mistakes. So he made it clear to Strakowski, who surprisingly agreed, saying that they would just brush the subject and only in theory so Evan would know what the Dark Arts were really about. He would personally teach him later, when he'll be older. Dark Arts were pretty much addictive and it was easier to succumb when one was too young and inexperienced. He knew that personally as his own addiction had blinded and led him to make bad choices with even worse consequences.

Like being branded. And to lose Lily.

He'll teach Evan the true Dark and Lost Arts but with all of the safeguards possible, like the purification rituals and protective totems. He would be careful. This was Lily's child, after all. It was a serious matter. But he still had time. He had talked about it with Evan, making sure that the boy understood that he wasn't to even think of trying alone and without proper guidance. As for the others topics Evan and his tutor were to study, there was nothing to worry about. History, the basics of defense, charms and transfiguration were taught to Draco too and it was only theory because there were no wands at work so he didn't understand Dumbledore's concern. Runes and arithmancy were a different matter altogether and a bit of a surprise to Severus but, if Evan was gifted in these subjects, he wouldn't discourage him just because he was younger than the usual students.

The Potion Master would have liked if Evan had been gifted in the art of potions but he studied and tried his best at least. He'll probably make a decent brewer, he supposed. He wasn't disappointed, it's just that… well, his mother was the one to initiate him to potions and it had been the one thing that he could share with her. It had been their thing, one that Tobias couldn't spoil. He didn't know what he could share with Evan, how to create some kind of bond with him like his mother did with him. He was not into runes or arithmancy. The parenting books all said it was important to spend quality time around a common activity that the both of them liked but… He didn't know what else to do. They walked, on the morning, but it wasn't exactly what he had in mind as a father-son bonding time.

He was at a loss. He was so busy and the few hours he had with Evan were just awkward. He wasn't a talking person and he didn't know what to say to a nine years old. He talked a bit of Evan's studies, of his friendships with Draco and the Evil Twins. He had talked a bit about Lily, as it was torturous for him to remember his mistakes but… What else was he supposed to say? He just didn't know. He didn't feel like a father, just a guardian at the most, he didn't seem to have the same close bond that parents formed naturally with their children. Was it him? Maybe he didn't have what was needed to be a father. Maybe he just wasn't father material. It was something that kept him awake some nights. He had promised he would try. Of course, he didn't expect some kind of miracle but a sense of progress would have been nice, some signs or anything, really.

He felt like a failure with Evan.

And he knew that the boy knew.

But he still wanted to try. He had promised to. That's why he wanted to do something special for their first Yule together. Something that would show the boy that he cared and paid attention. The boy had been learning the Russian language with his tutor with the help of the learning languages spell (or LelaS) and he would offer him to visit Russia with Strakowski as a guide. The man would show them the secrets alleys and shops that the ordinary tourist wouldn't know of. Then, he had made reservation for a little apartment that faced the Volga in St Petersburg. They would celebrate Yule there. Strakowski had declined, having the project to go to the graves of his family to honor them and respect the traditions of the Boudni vetcher (Бъдни вечер) and then the Koleda[2].

Now, there was the gifts issue. He could ask Narcissa but he knew he would feel guilty of not being able to know what the boy wanted. He could buy him a warm new scarf… No, too practical. Maybe, a book. Yes, that would do it but… what about? Runes? Fiction? History? He wouldn't know which one to choose that would interest Evan… No books then. A toy? A new mind game? A plushy thing? Well… Maybe he could overlook his guiltiness and ask Narcissa. It would be better than to disappoint Evan even if he should expect him to be happy with anything he would receive as it would be his first celebration after al. Still, he didn't want to get it wrong. He could compromise and ask for… Narcissa's advices as much it pained him to resort to this solution as he was sure she would overload him with catalogues, recommendations and other "motherly" tips.

He would do it.

But really, as a last resort..

**oO°Oo**

"Hey, Evan ? Do you know about Harry Potter?" Draco asked, lazily lying on his bed.

"I've read the story, yes" Evan neutrally answered, a bit ill at ease.

"Do you think we will friends with him?" the blond went on, oblivious of his friend's discomfort.

"Why would you want to be his friend?" Evan countered, curious.

"Well… Everyone wants to be Harry Potter's friend. I mean, even if he's a half-blood, he still had defeated the greatest dark wizard since Grindelwald and he's the heir of the Potter lordship. It's an old house, the Potters" the blond tried to explain.

"He could be arrogant and stupid with a big head" the dark haired child retorted. "Would you want to be friend with someone like that?"

"My father said that it's important to have proper allies and you must admit that Potter has the fame and money to hold it. It would be bad to turn my back on him just because he could be an insufferable prat and… You know, I learnt that he was raised far away from the wizarding world, the poor boy and even if he's receiving lessons, it's just not the same. We could help him. I'm a Malfoy after all, I could offer him my hand for proper guidance in this world and your own experiences with the muggles could be proved advantageous there. We could be his two best friends!"

"You seemed to have thoroughly thought about it" Evan said, amused.

"Well…I've read everything about him, you know. I don't believe it all!" he hastily added as Evan raised a brow. "I'm not some fan or anything like that but… He's still a very powerful wizard and he had impressed everyone, even my father and… well" Draco stopped, embarrassed.

"How would you proceed to meet him?" Evan asked in order to put Draco at ease.

"Oh! He's the same age as we are and I thought that he would be in train for Hogwarts at the very same moment we will so I thought about searching for him and then… I prepared a little speech; do you want to hear it?" the blond excitedly offered.

Evan just nodded, infected by the contagious enthusiasm of the other. Draco left the bed to stand, a solemn (and a bit pratish, but Evan would never tell him) air on his face, clearing his throat:

"My name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy" the blond drawled. "I've heard that the famous Harry Potter was coming to Hogwarts. You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there as people like us needs proper relations."

And then, the boy proudly held out his hand, satisfied with himself. Unable to contain himself any longer, Evan lost it and laughed. As Draco didn't join him, he threw a look at the blond whom seemed rather hurt, his lips pursed. It calmed Evan straight away. He went to reach for Draco's hand, making him sit on the floor before him.

"Was it so bad?" the blond asked, his voice small, his eyes on the floor. "I repeated it for a long time, you know, and I thought I respected all of the rules for a formal presentation. My family name first so he would know how important my family is, then I would acknowledge his own importance as the Boy-Who-Lived so he would know I considered him on an even footing and that even if he wasn't raised in our world it didn't matter as I offered him my help. Where did I go wrong?"

"Draco" Evan softly called. "It wasn't bad but in my opinion, you were trying too hard. We'll all be only eleven. Just be yourself, it will be enough."

"Myself?" the blond replied, uncertain.

Evan, affected by the usually hidden lack of confidence of his friend, took his hand and confessed:

"I won't lie to you, Draco. You know I won't. You're arrogant, selfish, sometimes cruel and mostly a prat but… I wouldn't want another one as my best friend."

"Really?" Draco wondered, incredulous.

"Really. Because I know that behind this mask of a spoiled brat there's someone I can rely on, with whom I can let it go and be myself because I know you will take care of me. I can confide in you and you don't judge me and think of me as weak. You don't mind sharing what you know with me and, even when you're jealous, you still are my best friend. You don't need a Harry Potter to show the world what a great wizard you are, Draco."

In the end, Evan was looking anywhere but toward Draco, embarrassed by his demonstration.

"I think you're a great friend too" the blond whispered, clutching tightly Evan's hand.

Evan raised his head, a small smile playing on his lips. He met Draco's eyes and they both stayed like that until Draco said, releasing the tension:

"It was sappy, wasn't it?" the Malfoy heir chuckled.

"That it was" Evan replied, relieved. "That it was."

"I think we need to do some manly thing to prove we haven't turned into some boring and sissy girls like Pansy so… Quidditch?" the blond proposed, standing.

"You're in!" the dark haired child suddenly exclaimed, running to the door.

"I'm not! You cheated! Evan! I'm not! Come back here!" the blond called, following his friend.

His best friend.

* * *

><p>[1] Veles is a major Slavic supernatural force of earth, waters and the underworld, associated with dragons, cattle, magic, musicians, wealth and trickery. As Strakowski is Russian, he uses Veles as the west European uses Merlin.<p>

[2] Alright, I did cheat a bit, it's not a Russian tradition but a Bulgarian one… But, hey! It's my story, isn't it?

* * *

><p>Well...That's it...<p>

If I don't publish before next year, I wish you all a Happy Christmas and New year!

If you would be so kind as to leave a review, it would be a nice Christmas gift to me!

I always answer (If I didn't , please let me know). Anonymous reviewers can find their answers in my profile page.

Good day!


	12. Simple as a smile

**Hi! I know it had been a long time and I certainly understand your frustration but, I will repeat it again: I never give up a story! As I will always answer your reviews even if it may take a long time sometimes... **

**I hope you will like this chapter, the very last of the transition. I had rewritten it so many times that I stopped to count but I hope you'll like it. I read your suggestions and used them so you know your reviews are useful.**

**Disclaimer: Who needs to do a disclaimer after 12 chapters, really?**

**Have a nice reading.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 12<strong>

**Simple like a smile**

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><p>Harry Potter was dead.<p>

There were many things Albus Dumbledore had come to regret in his long life. His father's imprisonment, Ariana's death, Gellert, Tom… And so many others. Now he could add Harry Potter to his ever growing list. He hadn't meant for this to happen. He knew, of course, that they were "the worst sort of Muggles imaginable" as Minerva had wisely put it. But he had had good reasons to put the boy there. Firstly, he didn't want for him to be raised in the wizarding world where his fame would have gone to his head as it wouldn't have been useful for his plans. Growing up away from that and, even better, ignorant of the wizarding world had been the right solution. The boy would then have discovered his world in a mix of surprise and wonder while identifying himself as a muggleborn, being raised in the same background. His fame would have suddenly put him under the heavy expectations of his fellow wizards and witches and that would have been the key point where his childhood would have kicked in.

He still remembered Petunia's letter, begging for her to be accepted into Hogwarts. He had to nicely refuse her of course but he had heard from Lily that her sister had then grown bitter and resentful, rejecting everything that wasn't viewed as "normal" aka "magical", her own sister included. The blood wards had been an excuse, but a credible one. The rumor mill had fed on it, making the illusion far more perfect than the truth really was, as no one wanted to confront them. That was Dark Arts and he still didn't understand how people would really have believed that he would cast such an evil thing. He had done so, once, and it had been the worst mistake of his life. He still tried to redeem himself from this shameful past. Furthermore, as there would be no love coming from the Dursleys, the blood wards would never have worked anyway so he wouldn't even have tried to put them up. He warded the place, of course, but with traditional ones. They were good, strong and provided the security that was needed. In fact, as they were anonymous muggles – since he made sure no one would be able to tell their name or location (a useful oath of secrecy) – no Death Eaters would have been able to find them and that had been the best protection.

The second point of leaving the boy with the Dursleys was to have him growing up as a humble and modest boy. The sudden fame and acknowledgment would have overwhelmed the boy. It would have pushed him in trying to reach the public expectations from going to Griffindor to copying what would be described to him as the right behavior and, with the right hints here and there, he would have become the wizarding hero they needed to beat Voldemort. Himself would have been seen as the one who would have "saved" him from his muggle relatives and allow him to return to the wonderful wizarding world after each summer. He would have had to test the boy, to prepare him to his destiny, of course. Regretfully, if what he suspected was right, the boy had to die anyway. But not now! He needed a savior to accomplish the prophecy, to stop Voldemort. He knew that he couldn't be the one to do it. He was powerful enough but the prophecy clearly stated it was to be child born at the end of July and marked by Voldemort.

He should have checked on the boy to make sure they didn't go too far but…

He hadn't wanted to know. Suspected was fine but knowing for sure would have weighted too much on his conscience. As a war leader, he knew there were difficult choices, sacrifices that one had to make in order to save the most people possible. Harry Potter had been the one who could have been the key to limit the number of people who would have died in the new war, when Voldemort would have arisen again. The boy would have been Voldemort's focus as the one to previously defeat him so he would have made sure the boy understood his role in this war, to prepare him for a willing sacrifice when the time would have come. To save the world the boy would have come to love and to honor his parents' memory. One life to save how many more? It would have been a fair trade to Albus. The boy would have been the shining symbol of hope and selflessness. His memory and sacrifice would have been dutifully remembered then. It would have been a terrible decision but it would all have been for the Greater Good.

It didn't mean that he wouldn't have tried to ease the little time the boy would have. He would have spoiled him a bit during his stay in Hogwarts, just to provide him some much deserved joy and guidance. He wasn't happy with the fact that the boy had to be sacrificed but he didn't have a choice. Furthermore, he needed the Potter's money to help funding the war, to provide safe-houses, bribe contacts for information and, after the war, to rebuild their world. He would just have had to wait until the boy would be eleven, then the stupid audit would have been finished and as the boy would had been the last Potter heir, he would have been entitled Lord Potter (even if he wouldn't have known that) and with the key point of being the boy's guardian, Albus would have been able to get access to the main vault. He had gotten used to giving to charities. Now, thanks to the Goblins, he didn't even had use of the trust vault of the boy, refilled only once a year and he felt guilty about not being able to provide more anymore. There were so many people he wanted to help, that deserved to be helped. Now, he had to restrain himself. One could only take so much from Hogwarts' founds after all.

Now, it was all for naught.

He was not only sad but also panicked. Who would stop Voldemort now? He should have checked or put up limits to the boy's relatives. Now, all of his carefully laid plans had crumbled to nothing. There was no savior anymore. He felt tired. He felt drained. He felt…defeated. He had visited the Dursleys as soon as the alarms had rung off. The muggle aurors were already there with some men in white clothes who transported a corpse. A small corpse, under a black cloth. He checked the identity and left. He didn't stay. Couldn't stay. He felt tired, and old, and desperate. All he had ever wanted and worked so hard for the wizarding world: the peace, the equal status for all, muggles and wizards alike, were going to be destroyed by one mad wizard. A dark wizard that was the direct product of one of his worst mistakes. He should have disposed of Tom as soon as he had seen him the first time. He had wanted to give him a chance, just watching him from afar and trying to stir him in the right path. Tom was just a child after all.

He had been a fool. He had been weak.

Tom had been full of hate towards the muggles, not understanding that he were the one who should try to change his attitude. Muggles just reacted because of Tom unwillingness to try to fit in. He had wanted to spend his summers in Hogwarts but Albus had always vetoed that, offering advices and guidance to Tom so he would rethink of things. The child and later young man hadn't wanted to understand, blaming his issues on the muggles. The opening of the Chamber of Secrets had been a turning point where Albus had giving up in saving the boy. He did everything he could to control and limit the boy's moves and influence back then, going so far as to refuse him the Defense and Offence (ex-DADA) position twice. The first by influencing Dippet and the second on his tenure as Headmaster. He had held some hope that the boy would just settle down if he was being forced to. He had no money and no good name, after all. "What could he possibly do?", he had thought.

He had been wrong. And distracted.

By the rise of his former lover as a Dark Lord. Gellert. When he had defeated him, he had sworn to himself that he would make the right choices from now on. He refused all of the glory and fame, content with being back to his previous teaching position in order to conduct his very own project: the merging of the muggle and wizarding world. But people kept coming to him for advice, to ask for his opinion and then, one day, he had understood. This unexpected fame would be his tool to get his redemption. If the wizarding world were ever to merge with the muggle one, if he could make sure to use his newfound power to give people the tools to understand each other then, what happened to Ariana and Gellert and even to Tom, wouldn't happen ever again. He was convinced of that. He had decided to devote himself to this project. Politically wise as he already did in education at Hogwarts. He took his seat in the Wizenmagot and only two years later was he promoted as Chief Warlock and then, Supreme Mugwump in the ICW.

It had been a long term project. A life project. He had firstly begun to slowly introduce more and more about the muggle world in the wizarding one. He encouraged muggleborns' integration in their world. He set up special scholarships so all of the muggleborns would go to Hogwarts when, before, they were on Ministry special tutoring a few hours a week – non mandatory – if they didn't have the means to pay to go to Hogwarts or to have a tutor when orphans were provided by a special found. It was unfair he decided. More often than not, muggleborns didn't stay in the wizarding world and that had been a great loss so Albus fought teeth and nails to bring up this project. Now, it was widely accepted. Like the muggles traditions Albus pushed to be celebrated instead of the old wizarding ones because it was part of his plans for the merging. To create a common ground of culture. Also, he greatly encouraged the old pureblood families to breed with the new blood so the merging would progress further. All and all, it had all progressed quite nicely.

And it went, on and on. People began to accept more muggle views in their mist. Of course, some purebloods still tried to block these progresses but Dumbledore had influence almost everywhere and he knew that, each year, with all of the young minds he had contributed in modeling, his fight for the merging of the two worlds had been on the right path. Then Tom had come back, trying to destroy everything he had worked for. He had created the Order of the Phoenix in retaliation, to protect his life project. He wouldn't let anything or anyone ruin it. He would protect people, wizard and muggle alike. But now, Harry Potter was dead and there was no savior anymore. Of course, he felt guilty for what happened to an innocent child but there were not much time to think about it apart from how he would publicly explain it but he wasn't really worried about it. He had to deal with a bigger issue now.

Tom would be back again and Albus had to be ready.

He had to think. He must have been wrong somewhere. Misinterpreted the prophecy because, once engaged, a prophecy couldn't be stopped. So, did that mean that Harry Potter was never meant to be the Savior? But he had been marked. It didn't make sense. Maybe he should just think about it but differently. The prophecy stated: "_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies_". One child, unborn at the time of the prophecy, was to be able to defeat the Dark Lord. A child whose parents had defied him thrice and born at the end of July. The child was to be marked by the Dark lord – or his indirectly through his Death Eaters – and have a power which would allow him to defeat said Dark Lord. And they were to fight to death because they couldn't live at the same time.

Harry Potter fulfilled the main conditions. Born on July, 31. His parents defied Voldemort thrice. He had been marked by Voldemort himself. But now, he was dead so, as Tom was still somewhat alive – if you could count a spectral life as being alive – it was obvious that his mark had been a mere coincidence. Albus felt his age growing heavier on his burdened shoulders. An innocent had died because he had made a mistake. A mere child. And he couldn't even punish the Dursleys because it would expose his responsibility in Harry Potter's death. He needed an excuse, something people wouldn't contradict, something credible to explain why Harry Potter wouldn't come to Hogwarts at 11. And he needed to find the real child of the prophecy. He had to look over all the children born in 1989 at the end of July, children whose parents had defied Tom and who could be considered as "marked" by him.

There was Neville Longbottom of course. He was born on the 30th, so the criteria could fit and his parents had fought Tom, defying thrice and probably more. Losing his parents to Tom's followers could be interpreted as being marked by Tom even if indirectly. But the child was weak and meek. Not really "Savior material". He still would keep an eye on him. He had to check St Mungo's records for all of the births at the end of July and the Hogwarts' Book for all of the future enrolled students for the muggleborns. He had to find the child. He had to make new plans before the child turns 11 and come to Hogwarts. He had to be prepared. A thought randomly reminded him of one child who could fit too. Evan. Severus' son. He was born on the 31st and his former parents defied Tom. The father by betraying his master, and not only by turning his back on Him but in wedding a muggle and having a child with her. As for Severus, he had also defied his master more than once.

He frowned.

Severus would probably oppose this. He would have to be cautious. And subtle. Manipulating the child would be difficult too. The child was far too smart for his age. He reminded him of Tom. Maybe that was the point of being Tom's equal? He would have to gain the child's trust even if he would still be searching for other children that could fit the prophecy. Even if Evan wasn't meant to be the savior, Albus felt like he had to keep him under control. It wouldn't do to have a second Tom upon his hands after all. And if the child was the one concerned by the prophecy, keeping control of him would become essential. Now, he had to plan how to gain the child's trust, how to stir him on the right path and, eventually, make sure Severus' interference wouldn't be an issue if needed.

So much to do, so little time…

**oO°Oo**

Evan should be here soon now. He promised him to return home as soon as his lessons were done. Severus knew that he would keep to his word. He didn't know why but Evan had taken very seriously his rule about "no lies". As such, the Potions Master was absolutely certain that, no matter what the boy would do, he would always come and confess to him. And he would accept any punishment. So far, he hadn't had to punish him. It both pleased and worried him. Children were always in some kind of trouble. Draco did try to hide the remaining pieces of the precious heirloom he was forbidden to even look at and was punished for that just last week. It had been months since he adopted Evan and… nothing. Not that he was complaining but…He doesn't protest when Severus sent him to bed nor when he put up the child's schedule, ask him to change clothes because he didn't see them as appropriate or just to stop reading in order to go to sleep. Those parenting books Severus had read explained that the boy probably wouldn't dare to push the boundaries as long as he wouldn't felt reassured about not being sent away if he were to be disobedient.

One more proof he wasn't good as that parenting thing.

Yule was coming soon now and Severus still felt inadequate in regards to Evan. He finally asked Narcissa for help. He felt like she does know Evan better than him. She had no problem in telling him what he could offer the boy as gifts. Evan was a good boy; he deserves to have the best. And he really wasn't sure he was the best for him though. He knew that Evan had kept all of his allowance (and with a little trip in Gringotts for a few more galleons) to buy gifts for the Malfoys, Strakowski and the Weasley twins but he also knew that he was working on giving him something too and it put him ill at ease. He didn't feel like he deserved any of this. He felt like Evan was giving him something that he couldn't return. The Potions Master just didn't know how to handle the weight of the boy's affection and needs. He didn't want to hurt him but he did. He knew he did. He couldn't speak of it either. Who would understand? He cared for Evan but when thinking of him, he just didn't use the word « son » in his mind, other than for technicalities that is.

He was ashamed of himself.

Outwardly, nothing seemed different. Severus tried to speak with the boy, to learn more about what he liked and didn't like. He'd listened to him when he would speak of the friends he'd made in his musical lessons, about his lessons about runes and his time with Narcissa or his friendship with Draco. He thought he'd made great progresses there. Still, he didn't feel any special link or parenthood like bond. He didn't even know how what it could be like. He was tempted to ask Lucius but his best friend was already busy with his own therapy and work…And, maybe was he a bit uncomfortable about breaching such personal matters. What was wrong with him? Evan was a lovely child; polite, smart, obedient. Why couldn't he love him like a father should? It was true that the circumstances of his adoption had been peculiars and that, at the time, he didn't think through it as a future father or in some kind of desire to have a child to call his own. But circumstances had changed and he now really wanted to be a good father.

He was just a total failure.

« Father? », he raised his head to look into Evan's concerned eyes.

« Yes? »

« I've been calling you but you didn't answer so…», the child shyly said.

« I was lost in my thoughts. Did you want something? », he asked.

He bit his lower lip. Severus unconsciously put his hand on the boy's shoulder. It seems that it was what he needed to bring himself to speak:

« I wondered if it would be possible… I meant… »

His voice was no more than a whisper now. He took a deep breath and the Potions Master patiently waited for him to go on. Evan was so shy when only with him. He posed as a polite and confident child if not a bit distant with everyone else but Draco and I. He trusted him to a level that he didn't deserve. No matter what he was going to ask, he'll probably give it to him. He rarely asked for anything anyway and it had always been little things. Lately, it had been about going out for his Yule shopping or helping with his gifts by brewing some potions. He didn't mind. It was better if it was him who gave him ideas for their together time because he certainly didn't have many on his own. He already didn't know how to fit Evan in his schedule most of the time. He felt quite guilty about that too. Did the boy know this? He watched him patiently until he was ready to ask his question.

« I don't know if you remember but…Yoshiro who's in my solfege lessons…», Evan whispers. « He's a mute and I would like to buy, or borrow, a book about sign language if possible because… He and Hanaki are trying to teach me but I can't train or learn when I'm at home. I mean… », he finishes quietly, his eyes glued to the floors.

He decided to put the child out of his misery.

« Well, we can go to a muggle library in London when we'll go to Diagon Alley next Saturday if you want? »

His small smile made his eyes bright and shining.

Severus liked his smile.

**oO°Oo**

Dumbledore was a fool.

He'd summoned all of the Order's old members to announce the grim news about Harry Potter. Severus had been quite curious as to how Albus would present the facts. He couldn't help but be shocked and angry when Dumbledore announced, his voice grave and sad, that Harry Potter had become a squib. Albus said that he had hoped for a long time that the magical core of the Boy-Who-Lived would replenished itself from his traumatic experience but that he had to admit his defeat. He then explained that it would be unfair to ask anything more from a boy who had sacrificed so much for the wizarding world already and to let him live peacefully in the muggle world, with his family and far from a world where there wasn't any place for him anymore. He was outraged but his Occlumency saved him from showing his anger, keeping his face blank and impassive.

Molly Weasley cried (more like wailed) on her husband's shoulder about "the poor boy" while the others appeared devastated. What a bunch of hypocrites! They didn't care about what was happening to Harry before and now, they were only sobbing about the loss of their savior. He felt disgusted and couldn't stop a sneer which earned him dark glares. Dumbledore then announced that he would give an interview the next day to inform the rest of the Wizarding world. No one asked a question. No one enquired if the boy had been seen by a qualified healer nor why his lack of magic hadn't been diagnosed before. No one asked how the child was informed of this or how he felt about the "news"… No one.

They really were sheep.

He didn't say anything to Dumbledore during the meeting but he knew that Albus would want to speak with him after the others' departure. He waited until the last member left before calmly turning to Albus. The old man looked at him, obviously searching what he'd tell or hide from him. It was a bitter moment to really acknowledge that he still wasn't trusted enough, after all he'd sacrificed. It was like a tie to Albus that he hadn't wanted to cut until now. Something like some kind of bonding or relation he had thought he had with the man. But he wouldn't be angry or let himself be hurt anymore. He was over that. At least, he wanted to be and refused to examine further his feelings at the moment. He would deal with them later, in the loneliness of his quarters. Albus offered him one of his insufferable sweets and still had the gall to look pained as Severus refused them. The Potions Master appeared utterly calm, his face blank. The Headmaster sighed before spouting yet another attempt in lying and manipulating to him. Because Severus obviously didn't deserve the truth in the old man's mind.

« I'm sorry about Lily's child, Severus. If I had known…», he began, his face regretful.

« Was he diagnosed by a qualified healer? », Severus cut him, somewhat still hoping to push him out of his web of lies.

« Of course, he was. We had hoped that the damage caused by the killing curse would repair itself given enough time but we were wrong », he promptly assured him.

It took a great effort from Severus to not blow up but he was experienced enough to keep a strong hold on himself, still emotionless on the outside while fuming inside.

« Is he properly taken care of at least? I remember Petunia from childhood and she wasn't very keen on our world », he pointed out.

« Yes, she was a bit cold at first but as Harry never presented any kind of accidental magic, she opened up to the child and now, they all form a good family to Harry. Even out of this world, he will have a place and people who care for him », Albus said with a composure so firm that it made him want to strangle him. Slowly.

The silence fall on before the serious part of the conversation began.

« Severus, my boy, I know that your oath only bonded you to protect Harry as a condition for your redemption for your time as a Death Eater but…», he said, his eyes twinkling.

« How could you even suggest that I would return to the Dark Lord's service, Albus? », he asked, shocked and a bit hurt.

« Now, now, Severus », Albus tempered. « I know that your redemption is sincere but the Ministry may not be of the same opinion now that you're free from your oath. And you could freely choose to leave Hogwarts and give up on your spying activities. Something I would certainly understand if you wanted to protect Evan but... Well, you know how precious the intelligence you provided have been for the Order during the last war », he explained, his eyes inquiring.

« What do you want Albus? Another oath? »,Severus promptly asked, tired of Albus' beating around the bush.

« Yes », he simply acknowledged. « The Ministry will want to be sure of your allegiance when Voldemort – Severus grimaced – comes back and I won't be able to provide them my support of you if I'm not certain – which I could understand, my boy – that you won't just go away when the times come. An oath that you will fight for the Order of the Phoenix and provide your services as a spy for as long as they are needed. Nothing that we both know that you wouldn't do. Just a formality, really », he finished, his tone light but his eyes showing what he really thought.

He wanted me right under his thumb. Before, the Potions Master would have done it without hesitation. But there was Evan in his life now. He had to think of him. He was to come first. Always. This kind of oath could be dangerous; it could prevent Severus from protecting Evan if it contradicted the oath. He then knew what he had to do. He simply stated:

« No. »

Albus looked up, surprised. He obviously had not expected this from him.

« My boy, be reasonable. The Ministry…. », he tried.

« We both now that it would be a huge blow to your reputation if you were to suddenly withdraw your support. Furthermore, they would ask how you could let a former Death Eater teach children in the school you oversee if you didn't trust said teacher. Also, we both know that you wouldn't easily found another Potion Master willing to take my place and if you don't, there will be potentially lethal accidents in potion classes and the public certainly won't approve if anything were to happen to their precious children. Therefore, I know too much about your lies and plans and you don't want me to share them with the press, do you? And finally, yes, you're right », Severus went on, « I could decide to flee with Evan should the need arise but you know what Albus? »

The Headmaster simply looked at him, thoughtful. He returned said look so Albus would understand how serious he was:

«You will have to learn to trust me like you do the others Order members because I damn well earned it and I deserve it. If you don't, then I will simply really go away. »

He didn't wait for his answer and left.

**oO°Oo**

Severus was a bit wary. Lucius had come back from his visit from the Ministry with Evan with a strange tale. It worried him a bit. Not about the skill Evan had displayed as it seemed quite useful – and he would look into it by himself – but by the coldness and even the bit of a sadistic side the child had shown. Lucius had this look in his eyes showing he had both been impressed and ...scared, which, for a man as Lucius, was worrying. It had reminded Severus that the traumas from Evan's time with the Dursleys were still there. And the boy hid it from him. It was unhealthy so he had decided to share some bit of his past with Evan during their stay in Russia. He hoped that doing so would make Evan understand that Severus wouldn't judge or blame him for the darkest side of his personality.

What decided him was Evan's confrontation with one of his slytherins. A girl named Appollonia Arfestshire. He hadn't seen it by himself, arriving only by the end of the altercation, but what he'd seen was the fear in the girl's eyes, how broken she had looked and how the whole common room had considered Evan. They were both impressed and apprehensive toward him, a mere nine years old boy, and wandless. The girl had fled the room, crying. The proud Slytherin Queen, reduced to tears by a boy. The Potions Master asked quietly what happened to her and… well, he had to admit having felt scared with the impassive answers Evan provided him.

« She was telling lies, father. So I gave her some truths »

And his smile…

Now, he had resolved to talk with Evan about it. He asked the child to wait for him back in their quarters while he extracted what happened from one of his Prefects. Apparently, it had been quite some time since Appollonia had showed some changes in her behavior. Before reserved and proud, she had begun acting openly flirty and rumors were saying that kissing wasn't all she would do which surprised Severus as purity was very important for old pureblood families in which the girl belonged. It seemed that the girl had been very tense and isolated herself from everyone, using tongue lashing to even her best friends. She had made the mistake to use Evan as a new target for her ire. She said that no woman would ever willingly let Severus touch her and that adoption had been his only way of having a child. She had gone on, arrogantly stating that said child should probably have been desperate to accept being adopted by the Potion Master.

Evan had listened quietly during all of her rant, until she was done. He enunciated just a few words but it was the way he said them that reached the girl so deeply:

« You shouldn't be so critical towards adoption Miss Appollonia, as it will probably the only mean to hide your bastard unless you want for everyone to know who, exactly, is… the Hogwarts' Whore? »

The voice had been cold but what was truly disturbing for the witnesses of the event was the pleasure he had shown in taking her a peg down. In hurting her with his words. Severus had then gone to see the girl, knowing what happened and what would have to be done. It was the same story each time and wouldn't be the last he would have to deal with it. The girl had given in to the pressure of her betrothed and had found herself to be pregnant. She asked the father to take his responsibilities as they were already betrothed but he just laughed to her, saying that he couldn't be forced to anything by a girl stupid enough to believe that he would bond with an impure girl. He gave her an abortion potion and swore that he wouldn't reveal her secret as long as she would give him the name of the father. He would make sure the stupid boy would think twice about making the same mistake.

Now, he still had to talk to Evan.

He was exhausted. He made sure his slytherins knew not to share anything outside of the common room and that Appollonia would be surrounded by her friends for the duration of her isolation until the abortion was complete. He would excuse her from classes for the next few days and would have to organize talks with her to help her overcome the whole ordeal. The poor girl had been desperate enough to find a father for her child and a husband for herself that her reputation was now as low as possible and that was without even the reaction of her parents. They would probably sentence her to go away for some time while arranging a new contract in a foreign country with more lax traditions, something less advantageous for the family. They wouldn't do anything toward the despicable coward that had gotten her daughter pregnant as the fault, in their narrow-minded opinionated minds, rested solely on their daughter's shoulders for her poor judgment skill.

That's why Severus would make sure the boy would pay for his betrayal.

He entered the sitting-room silently, appraising Evan's tense posture on the sofa. He sat himself on the armchair in order to face the boy. It was a delicate matter. Evan if he was flattered that Evan had defended him, he had to make sure that the issue of Evan's cruelty streak was addressed. He waited for Evan to speak first so he would know where to go from there.

« I'm not sorry », the boy defiantly said, looking right at him.

« Why? », he neutrally asked.

Something changed in the atmosphere and Severus stilled himself, quiet but listening intensely as the boy rose eyes full of a mixture of pain, self-hatred, pride and…darkness.

« I hate people like her who think that they can belittle me or the one I love without care or consequences. I hate them and I have no qualms in hurting them, should it be in words or physically as long as they wouldn't be able to prove anything. I don't feel guilty nor do I feel remorse for what I've done. I… You're my father and even if I know I can't stop people from saying things behind your back, I won't let them do so in my face. I will make them learn. I will make them pay. I don't forgive nor do I forget. I can wait if I must and bid my time until I get proper revenge like I'm for the Dursleys but, in the end, they will all know by whom and why everything they ever cared for is destroyed. And I won't feel any remorse because this is… Justice », the child hissed, a gleam of challenge present in his entire attitude.

Severus looked intensely at the boy who had finally begun to show him his true face and he knew he was being tested. Those bright eyes, still defiant, were hiding questions like: "Now that you know, are you going to give up on me?", "Are you scared of me?", "Do you think me a monster?" But Severus also knew this was as much part of the boy as his shyness, intelligence and kindness were. So many things were being revealed and he doubted the child was fully conscious of it. Severus knew it was some of those key points and that he needed to be both firm and understanding and really, who could understand better Evan than himself? He put a knee down to be able to properly look at the child in the eyes and took both of the small hands in his.

« I don't judge you, Evan. I understand where you come from and how… satisfying it must feel for you to be able to defend yourself and to hurt people when they try to arm you. I can even say I'm proud that you didn't use magic nor did you try to physically hurt your opponent. It was quite the display and you certainly impressed my slytherins. However, as your father, I need you to understand that you need to learn how to control yourself. This is not about learning good from evil or changing who you are. It's all about control. Your emotions mustn't guide your choices, Evan. This is why I will begin to teach you meditation, to guide you and help you sorting your feelings. You must keep your temper in check because… I've gone down this path, Evan, and I don't want for you to make the same mistakes I did. This way will only bring you regrets and sadness. Things that cannot be undone nor be forgiven. I want better for you. Do you understand? »

The child bit his lower lips before slightly nodding.

« I promise I will try, father », he said, subdued.

« That's all I ask », the Potion Master replied, inwardly relieved.

**oO°Oo**

Lucius went out of the floo with a practiced grace and poise. For the last few weeks, he had gone twice a week for his Mind Healing Process but… in fact, after the first session, he decided to never return. The mind Healer didn't understand. He wanted to be able to control his impulses, his anger, not talking about his childhood or his relationship with his father. No one had the right to know. It was private. So, he had used the time in more… pleasant company. Isabella, 24, and a very charming… personality. He went to her flat with flowers, some jewelry and the like and she would open her…door to him. Don't misunderstand him, he really wanted to be able to control himself but he just thought that counseling wasn't the right mean for him to do so. He just needed to find another way. Now though, he felt quite relaxed and would be able to go back to his office to do some work until diner. He was interrupted in his musing by the sight of Narcissa, rigidly sitting on one of the sofas of the floo room, her face closed.

« Narcissa? What happened? Where is Draco? », he promptly asked, worried.

« Draco is fine, Lucius. How was your session? », the blond woman coldly asked.

« It was fine », Lucius easily lied while beginning to wonder what had put Narcissa in this obviously foul mood… and how to escape it.

Narcissa narrowed her eyes on him and rise from the couch.

« How much longer will you take me for an idiot, Lucius? »

« I apologize but I don't understand, dear », Lucius tried.

He was sure he had covered his tracks, she couldn't know about his little affair or his sessions; he made sure to flaunt enough gold for that.

« I certainly deserve an apology, Lucius. For the breaking of your promise to go to counseling sessions, for betraying your duty to honor and protect your house and….for breaking your vows to me. Oh I know all about your little escapades, Lucius, don't think me naïve enough to believe you were faithful to me all these years but… I thought you had changed. Obviously, I was wrong. »

« I…. You don't understand, Cissa. These women don't matter to me, they never did and…»

She cut him.

« I don't care, Lucius. At least, I don't care anymore. »

« What…What are you saying? », Lucius asked, a cold shiver running his spine.

« I'm leaving, Lucius. And Draco comes with me », she informed him frostily.

« What! You can't do that! », Lucius exclaimed.

« I can and I will, Lucius. My things and Draco's had already been moved. I warned you that I wouldn't turn a blind eye anymore, Lucius. That you don't love me as I do, I've resigned myself to years ago even if I must admit having gotten some hope after what happened with Evan last summer. All for naught, of course but… that you would go so far as to neglect your sessions and be a risk for me or Draco… I don't and won't accept it. You'll receive my solicitor's notification in the next few days. Goodbye Lucius. »

She then went to leave but was stopped by Lucius.

« Narcissa, what… I'm sorry. I'm…don't leave. I didn't mean to give up the sessions but they weren't helpful! I wanted to find another way and then, I would have… »

She didn't reply, not even looking at him. Then, something she said hit him. She loved him? Suddenly, the whole world seemed to shift on its axe. He noticed small things like the redness in her eyes, the way her fists were clenched and her lips pursed tightly as she was trying hard not to lose control. Then, he remembered how beautiful she had looked on the day of their marriage, her smile so large and her eyes so bright. He remembered how shy she had been with him at first, how she had tried to organize romantic diners, together time which had irritated him to no end because he hadn't seen such attentions as useful. He couldn't pinpoint out when Narcissa had stopped doing such things before beginning to look after his interests, making sure to throw parties with the right people in the high circles of society, advising to whom he should give some donations and whom he should try to sway to him in order to gain more power so she would be at his side, as an equal, so he would consider her as an asset.

He remembered how he had resented her for not being able to give him an heir, how she lost weights after yet another miscarriage and her sadness that she had learnt to conceal from him as he focused on her being well enough to try again. He had taken care of her, of course, like you care about a precious object. He had been a gentleman and they were good partners but their couple had always been oriented around his needs and desires. She had been a trophy wife. He had never considered that their union could be more than just a pureblood proper arrangement. He knew she had never taken a lover but he supposed it was because she didn't love sex but recently he had noticed she was more passionate than he had given her credit for so maybe it was…his fault. He had always did mostly his duty and never really taken in account her pleasure or happiness. In his mind, it wasn't really necessary even if he had come to appreciate her as a partner and even as a friend. He realized how faithful and supportive Narcissa had been to him, how she had been there for him despite the way he had treated her, the danger he had put their family under by swearing allegiance to the Dark Lord. She had been with him through and through. He deserved what was happening. It had been long since coming in fact. He never gave her a chance. He sighed, defeated.

« I've ruined everything, haven't I? », he whispered.

She finally looked at him, sorrow clear on her face before softly replying.

« Yes. Yes, you have. »

She left and he didn't hold her back as she called her floo destination.

**oO°Oo**

« … And now, we're living in Black Cottage near Exeter. It was part of my mother's dowry », Draco sullenly explained.

« How do you feel about it? », Evan softly asked.

« Well… I don't know what to feel », the blond said, frowning. « I mean, it's strange to not see my dad at meals or whenever I want but I still see him almost every day, like now, even if it is under a house elf and your father's supervision. Mother refuses to see or speak to dad. You know… I hear her sometimes at night. She cries a lot and she hardly smiles anymore. And father… he's not better. I've never seen him like that. It's…it's…», Draco stuttered, searching his words.

« Sad ? », Evan suggested, trying to comfort his friend.

« Yeah. I… I want my parents back together, Evan », Draco whispered, his eyes tearing.

« Maybe they will, maybe they may just need a bit of time apart to ponder some things, you know », the brunet tried to comfort his friend.

« I hope you're right but I don't know how they could if they don't even speak to each other. I don't even know what my father did for mother to leave him », the blond finished miserably.

« Maybe your father could send letters or apology gifts and the like to your mother so she would forgive him? Maybe he could prove her that he's going to change so she would know he's sincere », Evan offered, totally aware of Mr Malfoy listening on their conversation.

« That's a great idea! », the blond exclaimed, enthusiast. « Come on! I have to tell dad! »

« Don't worry, Draco. I'm sure he knows », Evan said, smiling slightly as he felt Mr Malfoy's presence moving away.

**oO°Oo**

It had been two weeks since she had left Lucius and, even as she knew she had made the right decision, it was still hard for her. She still loved Lucius but she was tired to wait for something that, obviously, would never happen. It was hard to sever her last hope but she had to. For her son and for herself. She didn't want to live in fear of what could happen if Lucius was ever to lose control with them. She knew he wouldn't do it consciously but it still could happen and that was enough in her books. Also, even if it was difficult to admit, she had been hurt to learn that he had a new mistress. She really had thought that they were progressing. Lucius had been so gentle and passionate lately. She had thought they were finally making love. He had even stayed until morning with her.

Lies. It was all lies.

It hurt so much. She was tired to fight, tired to desire, tired to try to make live an illusion made of her hopes. They weren't a happy family. It had always been an arrangement for Lucius, he had never really considered her as a person to care for but only a pureblood heiress that could help him rise in society. She had done it of course but out of love, because she wanted to be close to him as her first attempts on the romantic side didn't bear fruits; she had to build herself a mask around Lucius so he would find her at least useful. So he would at least pay a bit of attention to her. Of course, he had been there for her when she suffered from her miscarriages but he had always asked when she would be ready to try again. Never did he really take into consideration the pain she had felt. She had to bear it in silence. She wanted more.

She was tired of not being loved.

She could have sought a lover but she couldn't betray her own feelings. Even now, she couldn't even think about replacing Lucius. She was still young and beautiful and she had never missed the looks or the more or less inconspicuous flirt she had been subjected to but… None were Lucius. When she was younger, she had dreamt of her promised courting her properly, with flowers, poems, jewelry, romantic diners and walks under moonlight. Lucius never courted her; they were married after only a month of engagement which had been resumed with only a few diners with their respective families and during which he had never really spoken to her. And she had been quite shy back then. She hadn't dared. She didn't believe that it would have changed anything though. She had claimed a place as a silent partner and he had learned to respect her. She had had to learn how to make him respect her, to not show him any weakness and she had put limits. She had claimed her place as a friend and confident and it had been probably wrong to hope for more.

She wouldn't ask Lucius for anything even if it would be her right to do so. She would just reclaim her dowry and a pension but that was it. She was thinking on resuming her studies. She had always wanted to work with children but Lucius' career had been her priority and she had given up to her dreams of a simpler life. Maybe it was time to do what she wanted to. Draco was grown up now, she could wait until he was off to Hogwarts to get herself to work but she still could learn until then. She had always wanted to be a teacher. She didn't know exactly how she wanted to teach or in which context. The only thing she was sure about is that she wanted to help children. Children whose families didn't have the money to provide an education for their children maybe? She wanted to help and not only with charity donations and parties. She was sick of all the political games and hypocrisy. She wanted to be Narcissa, not a lady or the wife of Lucius Malfoy. Just Narcissa.

Evan was the one to give her the idea. He had explained what he had seen in Knockturn Alley. Squibs, werefolves, illegitimate or whore's children abandoned in the middle of the night, having nowhere to go and no one to turn to. She wanted to help and she would. Evan had a tone of ideas and she wanted to be part of these projects. She had a feeling that it was important and would change bring changes for the betterment of their society. She had been a bit prejudiced at first but how could she resent children? They were innocents' victims after all as Evan had put it. No one would dictate her life anymore. She had less than two years before Draco would be off Hogwarts so she had little time to learn what she needed to and to organize her part in this project. She had called up some of her contacts for an apprenticeship and she had good hopes to be accepted. It would be hard but she was determined.

An owl tapped on the window, surprising her.

She went to relieve the poor creature, sighing. It was probably another of her "friends", asking for news as she refused to see anyone but her son, her godson and Severus at the moment. The gossip had spread like fire that she had filed for a divorce and they were all lurking around like vultures. Skeeter had even the gall to ask for an interview! It was her marriage not some kind of public tale, for Merlin's sake! The missive seemed quite thick, which puzzled her until she recognized Lucius' writing. She hesitated before going on the couch to open it. It was probably news from his own solicitor. She was surprised to find two letters and even more after reading the first. It was a poem.

_She's all grace and elegance_

_Such beauty that I fall in a trance_

_Flower of delicacy and shyness _

_Shouldn't ever endure carelessness_

_Of life and words and hands_

_She should be worshipped to the end_

_And I shall prove her my worth_

_So she would give me back her trust_

It was… bad. The verses didn't really follow the rules of poetry and the rhymes were awkward at best but still…He had written her a poem. She turned to read the other letter.

_Narcissa,_

_I have been the worst husband one can have. I know that. I didn't realize what I had until I lost it. I understand I can't make up for the past but I don't want to give up without a fight. It's not about the public scandal, or over money or pride or anything else but us. Just us. I never did give us a chance and I would understand if you don't want to have anything to do with me. I'm not the most romantic man. I can even say I'm really bad with this. The few lines I gave you as a poem took me hours to come up with and still I didn't manage to express what I wanted to. But I want to try; I don't want to let you go without trying at least. I want to court you like I should have done. I want to care for you as you deserve. I want to learn about you and learn all about how to love you as I should have. I know I don't deserve to ask you anything but could you at least think about it? I've returned to the counseling sessions and I asked Healer Hansworth to let you come should you desire to do so. There are things about me and my past that you deserve to know and maybe it could help me to understand why I acted like I did. However, if you think there is no more hope for us, I will respect your wish and I won't fight you in anything. Until your decision is made, please let me begin to prove you that I can and want to change by sending you everyday a token that made a proper courtship._

_Love,_

_Lucius_

She didn't know what to think. Or what to feel about this. Did she….Could she put her heart in danger once more? Her trust had been broken so many times, her heart even more. It was all she had ever wished for but now…she wasn't sure. Lucius was right: she needed to think about it. And, it would take time. She would go to his counseling sessions. At least to make sure he really went but she wouldn't make her presence known. She wasn't ready to be in Lucius' presence for now. She wouldn't refuse outright his request but she needed time alone. Time for herself.

Lucius would really need more than a little poem to prove himself to her.

**oO°Oo**

During the next two months, Lucius had gone out of his way to court her. Flowers, jewelry, really badly worded but still touching poems, letters, dresses, singing spelled balloons…. She could admit he had quite the imagination,. She had never replied until now. It was now almost Yule and she had decided to grant him a diner. She was nervous. They hadn't seen each other for two months even if she had gone to every Lucius' sessions without him knowing. He had respected her wish and she would use the occasion to decide whether or not she wanted to try again with him. She wanted to see by herself and talk with Lucius before taking her decision but even if she'd decide to give a chance, she would still stay at Black Cottage for now. She wouldn't move back until she was sure of Lucius feelings toward her and of their future together.

« You're beautiful tonight Narcissa. »

She turned around to face Lucius. He wore one of the last robes she had offered him as a gift. They were a very light grey with black embroideries. He had never worn it before, saying that it was too mush flashy for his taste. He looked good in it even if it was obvious he was uncomfortable. She almost wanted to laugh at his discomfort but didn't want to upset his careful – even if quite obvious – efforts to please her. He didn't lie when he said he wasn't good at being romantic. His gifts had all been proof of it. They were expensive and it was nice – though pretty much obvious – to see that he hadn't asked for advice and had made or chosen them all by himself but… the poor dear had no idea about how to please her. It was so clumsy that it was adorable.

« Thank you », she simply replied, her face blank. « Should we? »

« Of course. »

He led her to the restaurant's entrance, gallantly keeping the door opened for her, asking her where she wanted to sit and pulling her chair for her graciously. It was a muggle restaurant as she had wanted their meeting to be discrete. Lucius had agreed and didn't even try to convince her otherwise even if it was obvious he felt out of place but it was part of her test. It was an upscale restaurant so she was certain they would have high quality food and company. Deciding that she wouldn't be the one to engage the conversation first, she took upon herself to look at the menu and to choose what she wanted for diner. Lucius waited a bit before imitating her. Their waitress came soon to take their command and soon, the silence took place. Finally, the man couldn't take it any longer.

« I'm sorry », he sincerely said.

« What for? », Narcissa neutrally replied.

« Well… I owe you an apology for so many things… » the man sighed heavily. « I don't know where to begin. I've thought about this meeting for months and now that you're here before me, I just can't seem to find the rights words. It's pretty pathetic, isn't it? », he laughed bitterly.

« I'm not here to hear an apology, Lucius », Narcissa stated firmly. « I'm not here because of the past because no apology will be able to change it. I'm here tonight to decide if there will be a possibility for a future for us. »

They looked at each other and Lucius couldn't help but admire her courage and strength.

« Since you don't want an apology, may I be allowed to say that I missed you? », he boldly said.

A little smile appeared on her lips.

« You may », she granted, amused and touched. « What exactly did you… miss ? », she asked mischievously in return.

Lucius thought about it for a moment before responding:

« I missed… your perfume anywhere I go in the Manor. I missed the music when you played the piano. I missed your soothing presence when we were in the library, reading in the evenings. The intelligent conversations, your smile… I missed the person I've come to trust. I blame myself for missing all the wonderful things you did for me. Things I was too selfish to notice. I missed many things but what I missed the most were your eyes on me. You know… They held so much warmth and…love. And I didn't see it », he finished sadly.

She didn't know what to reply so she chose to change the topic for a safer one.

« How are your sessions? », she quietly inquired.

Lucius didn't seem to mind the change.

« They are – he searched for the right words – hard to be truthful. The Healer says that I will need time before I can truly overcome… some things of my past », he said awkwardly. « I… I didn't want to think of my childhood as bad but I feel like my eyes had been opened and it's unsettling to say the least. Lucius' smile was now strained.

« I know. I was there », she admitted quietly.

« You were? », Lucius wondered, shocked.

« I asked Healer Hansworth to let me come under a disillusionment charm and I asked him not to say I was there. As you did allow me to come, I thought…», she trailed nervously.

Even if a bit upset, Lucius still managed to whisper:

« I'm glad you were there. I'm not sure how I could have told you… »

« I wouldn't have pried, you know », she softly said.

« I know but… I wanted you to know those things about me. Because if someone deserves the most to know, it certainly is you », the blond tried to convey his sincerity, locking his eyes in hers.

« Thank you », Narcissa simply stated.

The silence was intense as they both didn't know what to say. Finally, their dishes came and the conversation went up naturally lighter and pleasant. As they reached the desserts, Lucius risked a question:

« Did you like my gifts? », he prompted, curious.

« They…ah, they were…interesting », she tried to put it delicately.

« That bad? », the blond asked, wincing.

« It wasn't… »She stopped at the look on Lucius' face. She opted for a full openness. « Well, maybe you should avoid poetry, and the singing balloons, hearts, bubbles…All that sings, really », she laughed lightly as she saw the shadow of a smile on his lips. « You just need to learn », she pointed out.

« You're right, as you always are », Lucius smiled. « Well, I suppose I should begin now. So…errrr… What's your favorite color? », he lamely offered.

Narcissa stared dumfounded for a second before laughing in the face of a very miserable and very embarrassed Lucius. Then, as she just couldn't seem to stop, he joined her, dissipating efficiently the remains of the previous tension. It was fortunate that Lucius thought to pull up some silencing charm at the beginning of the diner or they would probably have been asked to calm down. In their private booth and with the charms up, they could make as much noise as they wanted without fearing to disturb their neighbors. Finally, they both calmed even if Narcissa couldn't help but giggling once in a while. She then took him in pity and answered his quite ridiculous question.

« White, Lucius. My favorite color is white », she said, smiling. « And yours is dark green. »

« You know me well, Lucius acknowledged, a bit put out. « I have so much to learn. »

« Surely you know some things? », she encouraged him.

« I know you play the piano but you have a secret inclination for the harp, which you play quite well. You like doing romantic things like going out for diner or walking under the moon. I remember when we were young married how often you tried to convince me to wake up earlier to see the sun rise together… I would like to do that, you know? » He distractedly said before going on: « I know you love Draco and how you would have wanted to have more children and that's why you would like to work with them. »

« How do you know that? », she inquired, surprised. She never had talked about her dreams with Lucius.

He seemed a bit embarrassed before admitting:

« I saw you read all those books about teaching, taking of abused children and the like and… I've seen how you enjoy teaching to Draco and Evan. You have so much to offer and... I learnt from Lord Danvers that you were searching for information about it. I thought that maybe you wanted to do it. Teach, I mean », he awkwardly finished.

« Yes, I'm thinking about it. Do you mind? », Narcissa said, wanting to know.

« No », he firmly stated. « You've been with me; supporting me in everything I did and helped me rise where I am now. Even if – he swallowed hard – you don't want me as your husband anymore, I still hope that you will have me as your friend and that you will let me give you my help and support. I... I want you to be happy, Cissa », he simply admitted.

Those few words were all she needed to make up her mind. She put her hand on his.

« Thank you, Lucius. »

They have been married for many years, yet, she felt that they had just beginning their journey together. She smiled and he soon mirrored her, lost in each other, promise of a new future.

**oO°Oo**

After making sure that my slytherins were properly taken care of while he would be away, Severus found himself with Evan in the large flat he decided to rent in Saint Petersburg for the Holidays. It faced the Neva and they would stay here until the New Year celebrations as they were invited to Malfoy's Manor where Narcissa and Lucius had agreed to make the celebrations. Strakowski would be their guide for the first few days before leaving for his own projects. Severus wanted to have a private celebration for Yule, something to share privately with Evan. He had to ask about how to proceed to Narcissa though, having never celebrated Yule before. Strakowski had guided them through Sadovaïa Prospekt, the magical alley of the town. There, Severus had the surprise to see that Evan was perfectly fluent in Russian. The spell for learning new languages had worked perfectly for the boy. As such, Severus decided to let Evan explain and translate everything for them during their stay instead of hiring another guide after Strakowski's departure. Something the child happily did, proud to serve his father.

It was nice to see the child so open. Severus let him buy many books on the alley, in the shops Strakowski had indicated to them as interesting. With each new discovery, the child almost "bounced" to show him what he had found, babbling about one thing or another, how interesting this or that was. It was…relieving to see the boy finally acting as a child. Everything was fine until he asked the child to stay in the library shop while he would go to the apothecary. The child obstinately refused. Even if it was for a few minutes, he didn't want to be parted from Severus. The Potion Master would have been irritated or annoyed with such behavior but there had been fear in Evan's eyes so he just couldn't dismiss this.

After, Evan seemed to subtly stay next to him, never going far and making sure that he would stay in view. He tried to reassure the child that he wouldn't abandon him but his logic only brought veiled eyes with tears so he preferred to let it be at the moment. Evan would take his hand and not let it go from the moment they left the flat until they returned. He could see how the boy was conflicted by his own behavior but couldn't help it. After Strakowski's departure, he decided to associate Evan to the future celebration by decorating the flat. It was quite simple as Narcissa had previously explained to him. The main purpose was to thank the Great Mother for her gifts, to celebrate the balance between dark and light. As it was Winter Solstice, it was also mean to reflect on the mysteries of Darkness, to revere the shadows forces and to respect Death, Silence and Knowledge. It was a time for thinking, to be humble and grateful.

The Potion Master admitted being fascinated with all of these traditions he had never know about before. He decided to make sure now and then that Evan would at least know about them even if he so chose not to uphold them later. He let the boy chose which tree they would use. They wouldn't cut it, of course but they would transfer it in a large pot so they could decorate it in their flat. White candles had been charmed in order to not burn the tree or damage it. They were to symbolize the Light while golden dust, garlands of red holly berries were placed to show they were appreciative from all the gifts of the Great Mother. Finally, onyx and red goldstone pendants were meant to help them through the ritual, given them acceptance through negative emotions like grief and sorrow but also guiding them in confidence, sharpening their senses towards the next step: rebirth. Rebirth of nature, of energy, growth and abundance. It was a time for reflection, introspection and to be humble and grateful.

It was both general and personal. The final result was far from the bright and colorful decorations of Hogwarts or the miserable ones of his childhood but he preferred it to them. It had a real meaning. Even the gifts. They were meant for family or friends to tighten their bonds. For parents, they would offer gifts to prove that they would provide for their children for as long as necessary and for children, it was to show how grateful they were to be part of the family and that they would, later, take their part in the responsibilities and duties of said families. It was significant. Severus had never been part of something like that and it made him feel like… belonging. In his youth, he had longed for this and now, he had Evan and he could share this with him.

It felt both nice and complicated. They did celebrate Yule during the Three Nights where they would pray and present their offerings to the burning fire and each time, Severus would just let himself go in the sofa next the fire with Evan. It felt both natural and still uncomfortable how the child would always cuddle with him. They wouldn't speak, not wanting to spoil the atmosphere. They almost could feel the Magic around them, confronting them to their fears while comforting them. Severus felt like some kind of burden had been removed from him and he felt hope. Hope towards his relationship with Evan, hope toward the future and for someone like him, it was something. He felt almost…good.

They had exchanged gifts. Narcissa had drowned him under "suggestions" until he was fed up and let her do what she wanted. He just required she wouldn't buy more than four gifts, the fifth being his own. So Evan was now the new owner of his own broomstick (the latest on the market) with a full security set, a book on wizarding traditions, a new violin for his studies and a figurine set of animated battle dragons. Severus felt ill at ease with the gift he'd chosen even if it had taken him a while to choose. He landed the small box with a bit of hesitation, noticing the child immediately giving him all of his attention. Evan seemed puzzled as he opened the box. There were wands inside so Severus hurriedly explained that it was all of the wands the Prince's had transmitted through the ages so the heirs could train until they could buy they own wand at the age of eleven.

As Evan began biting his lower lips, Severus felt like he had failed, once again. He informed the boy that he had thought that he would like learning some bit of defense with him but that it wasn't mandatory, of course and… He hadn't had time to finish his sentence that he had his arms full of a crying child saying repeatedly "Thank you". A knot in his stomach loosened quite a bit after that and he awkwardly patted the child's back until Evan let go of him. Severus didn't pay much attention to his own gifts, totally forgetting that Evan had prepared one for him. So, as he disregarded the precious midnight blue robe that he was sure was Narcissa's new attempt at making him wear something else that his usual black robes, he didn't notice the hurt face the child wore.

He didn't notice either his despair at being rejected once more.

**oO°Oo**

Severus couldn't put a finger on what was wrong with Evan but he knew that something was going on. He tried to talk with the child but the latter would obstinately repeat that he was fine so he didn't push it. Still, there was a sadness in Evan that Severus couldn't understand. He thought they had become close during the holidays so he couldn't think about what could have happened to Evan. He didn't have much time to think about it anyway, what with the next term beginning and the return of the dunderheads. Evan's friends, the W.I.T. standing for Weasley Identical Terrors, were prompt to make Evan going out of his sorrow their private mission. As for the Potion Master, he neatly refused to answer any questions about his holidays from Albus, establishing quite clearly that the old man was far from being in his good graces.

So, as he went with Evan for their early walk, he didn't really paid attention when the child insistently asked if he would have some private time for him this night. He distractedly replied by the affirmative while thinking about his new potion project. He had almost finished it and it was waiting to be tested before being sold. The day went on and he noticed how Evan seemed impatient, reminding him of their time tonight. Severus thought he was just impatient about the new book they were to begin. It still found it strange when even Strakowski hinted about being at home early this evening. After diner, he decided to mark the new bunch of the mostly inept work of the second years before going for his round. Unfortunately, Peeves decided to flood all the third floor and Severus had to deal with a raving Finch until Minerva went to "save" him to inform him that one of his slytherin had been caught dueling with a griffindor so he had to meet up with them in the Headmaster office.

All in all, it was really late when he finally could go back to his quarters and found the boy asleep on the sofa. It seemed curious to him that the child didn't go to bed once it was obvious that Severus had been held back but he finally understood as he saw the small cake with candles upon it on the coffee table. It was his birthday. Severus had never celebrated, at least not willingly, the date of his birth. It was a waste of time in his mind. Looking at the cake, it was pretty obvious that the boy had made it himself, probably with the help of the House elves. He hesitated. Should he wake up Evan or let him sleep? Considering that Evan had waited for his return, Severus decided to wake him up gently. It took only a few seconds for Evan to be aware and to whisper:

« Happy birthday, father. »

« Thank you », he simply replied.

Once fully awakened, Evan went to lighten the candles and Severus did blow them. He didn't even ask how Evan did know of his birth date; he was just too out of it to think about it plainly. The cake was surprisingly quite tasty. Vanilla and nuts, his favorites. That's when really Severus acknowledged the efforts the child had put in knowing him. He had watched him, paying attention to what he liked or disliked. And he had to admit that it was quite touching so he made sure to voice his opinion about the cake, congratulating the boy who was positively beaming. Then, as the Potion Master believed that he could finally go to bed, he was surprised to be dragged toward the fireplace. He threw an inquiring look at Evan:

« Your gift is at the Cottage, father. Master Strakowski and the elves of the Cottage helped me to move it there. »

He suppressed a tired sigh and flooed to the Cottage, Evan with him. He could humor the child but he was curious about what kind of gift couldn't be brought to Hogwarts. The boy led him toward the garden in which a large alley of candles illuminated and surrounded a young tree, an oak1….that wasn't there before. He gasped by the unnamed emotion. Only then, he began to pay attention to what the child was saying.

« …and I know that it should have been planted at your birth but you said that yours didn't survive and then, mine was planted only last year so I thought that you wouldn't mind. I asked for a tree the same age as you and I've prepared everything for the ritual. The moon isn't very bright but the candles will be enough, won't they? »

Evan was visibly nervous as indicated by his babbling. Severus just put a knee down to take him in his arms. It was the most wonderful gift he'd ever received. Evan had put much thought into it and he just…Merlin! The only thing that would come to his mind was how he didn't deserve Evan. They completed the ritual before going back to their quarters in Hogwarts. While putting Evan to bed, something the boy said tipped his alarm bells.

« I'm glad you liked my gift this time. »

This time? To which other gift was he speaking of? He went to bed, frowning until, suddenly, he burst out of his bed toward his wardrobe. During the New Year's celebrations at Malfoy Manor, Narcissa never hinted about a new robe she would have offered him as a gift and if it wasn't her then… He finally found the robe he had so negligently dismissed, noticing the quality of the silk, obviously heavily spelled, and also the embroidered runes that were delicately adorning the fabric. Protection runes, it seemed. How could it be that Severus had the feeling of finally moving on with Evan and just after, to erase any progress he had thought he had made?

He swore to himself that he would wear the robe, just because he didn't want to admit he had failed once again.

Merlin, this child deserved so much better…

**oO°Oo**

It had been two weeks since his birthday and Severus still didn't know how to act with Evan. Nothing seemed to have changed but there was a tension they both could feel. Evan had turned silent and reserved but watchful. Of Severus. The Potion Master knew he was at fault. He just didn't know how to handle the situation anymore. He was confused and felt unworthy of the trust and obvious affection the boy felt toward his person. He knew he had to talk about it with the child before things deteriorate too much. And he still remembered the blood on the bathroom floor… The truth was that he wanted to give as much as the child did but he didn't know how. He made sure to be extra attentive to the boy and to spend as much time with him as possible but…

Something was lacking.

This morning, Evan was still sleeping at the time of their walk so Severus decided to let him rest and to go alone for once. He needed to clear his head and to think. During last holidays, he had tried to explain to Evan what he was: an ex-Death Eater, a spy… a pariah. The compassion the child had shown him had thrown him off balance. Then, he remembered how excited Evan had been in the local libraries, showing him everything he had found interesting, his eyes bright and his smile large. How his face had become fearful at the mere idea of being left alone, even for a few minutes. Evan…loved him. As his father, his protector and guardian. It was obvious. Everything was simple in the child's mind. They were a family and its member must care and love each other.

What was love?

Severus was more familiar with hate. He had hated Tobias and his mother. He had hated the Marauders and Voldemort and so many others in his life. Who had he loved? Lily. But Lily never returned his feelings. At best, she had seen him as a friend. Lucius? Maybe it was what was the closest from a family bond but no one had ever loved him as fiercely as Evan did. He didn't know what to do with the weight of such a love. Having never received something so precious, he felt like he would taint it if he were to hope… if he were to indulge himself in being what he wasn't. And that was a good man. He was snarky, willingly mean, sarcastic, bitter and resentful. How could this precious child love him?

He still hadn't found the right answer as he went back to his quarters. It was the silence that put him off his musings. It was late for Evan. Usually, he was the first up on the morning. Severus hadn't noticed him to be more tired than usual yesterday. Cautiously, he approached the boy's room and knocked softly. Hearing no answer, he went in. The child was still on his bed, unmoving. One could have thought he was just peacefully sleeping but Severus had been a spy and a good one at that. There was some stiffness in the posture that put him immediately in movement. He put his arm on the small form so he could see the child's face.

He didn't like what he saw.

Evan was flushed and his breathing was coming but too erratically to be healthy. He decided to cast a diagnosis spell while thinking about how much Pepper up potions he still had in his cupboards thinking it was the flu. The letters forming the diagnosis froze him. An icy shiver ran his spine and for about five second, he didn't move nor breathe. Then, he just propped Evan against his chest and… ran. He ran through the corridors, never stopping. He passed Minerva but didn't stop as she called him out. He didn't have time. He had to reach the infirmary wing. He didn't listen as Poppy yelled against him barging in her territory as he frankly didn't care. He walked directly toward the floo who had a direct access to St Mungo's for emergencies, his precious burden tightly secured in his arms and one lone but terrifying thought in his head:

_**Febris Timoris2**_

**oO°Oo**

Healer Carter had worked in St Mungo's for most of his career and was perfectly fine with that. He had gradually gained more responsibilities and was now both Head of the Artemius Dulceus' Ward, or Ward 24 for the unknown and rare diseases and of the Annabelia Carpua's Ward for the contagious and dangerous diseases or Ward 25. He had spent his life searching for new treatments and a better understanding of magical diseases. His preference run toward ward 24 as it was there that he thought he was really useful. He had just begun to read an article on "Potions Today" about the new potion soon to be edited by Praestes & Potions when a trainee barged in his room with only two words: Febris Timoris.

He ran.

He wasn't expecting what he saw. Severus Snape, a child tightly wrapped in his arms and an expression of intense fear in his eyes facing a less than welcoming staff. He wasted no time in leading them to his ward but it took some arguments to convince the man to let go of the child. Carter had always respected Severus Snape. He had seen the young man as he was working himself to the bone between his internship in St Mungo's and his Mastery. Of course, he knew of the man's past but he remembered how quick the counter of new poisons spread by Death Eaters were available back then and he had been observant enough to see the remorse in those dark eyes. Most of his colleagues had turned their back to the young man after the war. Not him even if he hadn't been in contact with him since then. He just didn't think that, as a Healer, he was the one allowed to judge another one. And right now, he silently defied his staff to even attempt to say anything. They all looked away, ashamed of having to be reminded of their oath.

He cast a diagnosis spell which unfortunately only confirmed the first one. He gave his first set of instructions in spells and potions before turning toward the still shaken but more composed Severus Snape. He asked a few basic questions in regards of his new patient like his first name, age or since when he was in this state. If he was surprised to learn that the boy was Snape's own child, he didn't show it as it was obvious how upset the man was. Finally, he conjured himself another chair and began his explanations:

« You probably know about Febris Timoris but I still prefer to review your knowledge with you as I do with every parent here so you know exactly what to expect in the next few hours and days, alright? », he gently asked.

A small nod from the man who hadn't looked away from the child since he had been placed on the bed, confirmed to the Healer that he was listened in.

« There are three stages. The first one has already started in which the fever is going to rise fast. Evan won't wake up and be irresponsive to stimuli. We have cast spell to control the fever but we can't give him much potions right now because they could badly interact with the ones we will need for the second stage. This is where the crisis will begin. He will wake up suddenly but won't be really conscious. He will live through a waking nightmare where all of his fears, insecurities and bad memories will be reunited through a delirium which will all seem very real to him. He will be yelling, calling for help, crying, probably try to hurt himself or people around him. It will be straining for his body too and the more crisis he goes through, the more dangerous it will become. »

The man, already pale, seemed to lose the last remains of color he still held but Carter wasn't done:

« His body will be slowly drained of his strength but the biggest fear we held is toward his heart. Heart failure is a risk we will probably have to deal with and this is why we have to hold back in regards to potions for now. However, stage 3 is more dangerous if not more than stage 2. As it is, between each crisis, Evan will plunge back into coma which will become deeper and last longer. We estimate that after the five first days, the chances the patient will ever wake up are… slim. »

The potion Master looked up, his worry shining in those dark eyes. The Healer knew what the question the man wanted to ask was. Every parent asked the very same.

« You will be able to help. Some of my colleagues believe that, during the crisis, casting an incarcerous spell and a silencing charm is the way to deal with them but I'm not of this opinion. I'm more into a gentler handling of them but I must warn you, this treatment will be emotionally and physically draining for you if you so choose to do it. It will also be exhausting as you won't be able to leave his bedside for more than a few minutes as the crisis will occur at random times. You will have to constrain him and hear him suffering and it will be awful. You will probably feel powerless but if I advise this approach it's because of the bond you share with Evan in your mind and magic. Even if he doesn't acknowledge it, your presence will somewhat comfort him. My studies had proven that fact. However, I could understand if you don't feel up to…»

« I'll do it », the man cut firmly. « I'll do it. »

« Alright », he simply agreed.

Wanting to give some hope to the man, the parent before him, he went on explaining what they would do once Evan would wake up. As if there was no doubt that he would. He explained that Evan would be very weak for some time, not being able to stand by himself and probably not even to hold a spoon. It would be all very frustrating for the child and the Potion Master would need a lot of patience to deal with it. The boy would need to relearn to do many things including how to walk and his progress would be slow. At first, he wouldn't even be able to stay awake for long, his body needing paradoxically more rest than he would have had during his coma. Furthermore, Evan would need to be constantly supervised. At least at first as his heart could suddenly failed him should it be by too by much efforts or a strong emotion. Speaking of it, Evan's emotions would be "all over the place". He wouldn't be just sad but despaired, not content but overexcited with happiness and he would need to be handled carefully. So, he would always need to have a heart potion with him for a year if not longer. Regular visits for check-ups would need to be organized. Every week at first and then, once a month until he was deemed healed enough to space them out. Carter then suggested to the man to organize himself for the next few days, presenting him one of St Mungo's elf so he could send messages or require for fresh clothes among others things. It was fortunate that it didn't take too long as the first crisis began.

He just hoped that Severus Snape was prepared for what was about to come.

**oO°Oo**

An alarm echoed in Ward 24 but no one from the staff made a move. They knew they couldn't do anything. Healer Carter was the only one to be privy about what was happening in room 21 where a small child was fighting for his life. The Healer would instill carefully dosed spells and potions while Severus Snape was trying to comfort and restrain the child at the same time, hearing the worst of the things while speaking soft words that no one who knew the Potion Master would ever have believed he was able to speak.

**oO°Oo**

_**I hate you! I hate you! Let me go! No! NO! Let me go! Liar! You liar! I hate you!**_

_Hush, little one. Everything is fine. I'm here, Dad's here. Hush, it's fine, my little one…_

_**Help! Please! Please! HELP! Please! Daddy!**_

_I'm here. You're protected, child. No one can hurt you now. I protect you, have no fear, child._

_**I'll be good, I promise! **__**I swear! Please, Please, PLEASE! Don't leave…**_

_You're not alone, little one. I'm not leaving. I'm here, little one. Dad's here for you. Always._

_**I'm bad! Bad, bad, BAD! I'm alone. No one wants me! Why? WHY? I'm so bad...**_

_You're a good boy, Evan. I'm here for you and I won't let you go. Everything will be fine, child._

_**Daddy? Daddy ! Don't leave ! Don't let him hurt me! Daddy! DADDYYYY!**_

_I'm here, child. I won't let anyone hurt you, I promise. Daddy's here._

_**Liar ! You promised me! You promised we would be family! You promised! Liar! I hate you! ... I love you.**_

_We are family, child. I'm so proud to be your daddy. I'm so sorry son I never told you. Child… I love you too._

**oO°Oo**

Lucius Malfoy stopped at the entrance of room 21, looking at the man sitting on the chair near his son's bedside. If there had ever been doubt that Severus loved this child, they would have vanished before the sight the man presented. Apart from a quick wash and natural needs, Severus Snape hadn't left his son at any moment and only if the Healer was there, not wanting for Evan to be alone even for a moment. His hair was greasy from lack of proper washing, his clothes wrinkled and there were large black bags under his eyes. Lucius was saddened as his brother in everything but blood was rocking his child in his arms gently as if he couldn't resolve to separate himself from him. Lucius couldn't imagine being at the same place, Draco in Evan's place. It was the fifth day. Severus was a mess. As soon as he had known, Lucius had come and had to practically force the man to eat. He had come at least twice a day to visit, sometime accompanied by Narcissa who forced Severus to accept one of the Malfoy's elves to provide some care to the Potion Master so he would remember to eat and sleep a bit.

Dumbledore had come too with Minerva McGonagall. Severus refused to see them or talk to them. Or anyone else for that matter since that first day. He only looked and talked to Evan. Lucius had then been let to deal with them and their questions. He had snarled when the Headmaster had the gall to ask when Severus would be returning to teach. Even McGonagall had been shocked and demanded an apology which the old man easily granted, dismissing it as a slight misunderstanding. He mentally snorted. He had pushed the Board of Governors to accept the unexpected leave of the resident Potion Master due to the dire circumstances and fortunately, he didn't have to push much. Now, the students were to study on their own the theory while any practice was strictly forbidden for now. He had also taken upon himself to talk with the Slytherins to reassure Severus' precious snakes on the whereabouts of their Head of House. The Potions Master had been deeply touched by all the Get well cards he received then, wishing Evan to heal soon. Some even stated how much they missed him and hoped to have both him and Evan get back soon. And they said slytherins were selfish and uncaring.

He went to silently sit down near his friend. He didn't expect him to talk and was surprised when he did.

« He never sleeps like that, you know », Severus suddenly stated.

« Really? », Lucius calmly asked.

« He likes to curl up on his side, one hand on his plushy toy and the other near his face. He likes his plush, you know. I gave it to him soon after I adopted him. »

It made Lucius smiles a bit as he remembered that Draco was still sleeping with his own plushy dragon even if he vehemently denied it.

« Did you know that "Evan" means "young warrior"? », Severus went on, unusually chatty. « I was the one who named him, you know. »

« That's a good name. A strong name », Lucius softly replied.

« I know that Evan isn't like the other children. He's highly intelligent, even manipulative and cruel sometimes but…he has lived through so much, Lucius. He's also so kind and caring, you know. He doesn't trust easily to show it though. I know some people would be afraid of him, of his darkness but I don't care. I don't care. He's…he's my son, Lucius », the Potion Master painfully whispered as if admitting a secret. For the highly private man, it certainly was.

The aristocrat placed his hand on his brother's shoulder as a silent support. He couldn't tell him that everything would be fine because he didn't know if it would but he could acknowledge the obvious love and devotion Severus felt toward a child that wasn't even his at first. He understood and he really hoped that Evan would wake up soon. He was certain that Severus wouldn't be able to bear it if his son was to die. He knew that he, himself, probably wouldn't survive if things were to be reversed. He looked at the little altar that he had put up for Magic to bless the child and to pray Her to let him heal. At the Manor or the Cottage, Draco had spent most of his time before the altar, praying for his friend to get better. Lucius didn't allow him to visit at the hospital; it would have been too hard on the child to see his best friend like that. He stayed a bit longer before saying his farewell, sincerely hoping for Evan to wake up.

After all, he was a father too.

**oO°Oo**

He watched him. He looked peaceful but Severus would greatly prefer to see him move, groan, throw off his blankets or even drool on his pillow than to see his unmoving form on this bed. His small and frail body…If it wasn't for a soft breath which made his chest rose slightly, he could have been dead. The Potion Master didn't care about appearances, not even his own, or his mask, anymore. He was just utterly scared and he couldn't bring himself to care about his reputation. His hand rose toward the child's forehead to stroke it gently. He rearranged the blankets once more before stroking his cheek. He couldn't help but touch him, reassuring himself with the warmth of the small body. He didn't want to think about those lips turning blue, the color leaving those cheeks and the skin going cold.

Evan's heart had stopped to beat twice during the last few days.

That's when, precisely, Severus knew that he would follow Evan if he were to die. What reason would be left for him to live anyway? Evan had become his everything. His wonderful, witty and shy son. How could he live without his smile? Without the way his eyes would brighten when he would take time to read with him on the evenings? He never said to Lily that he loved her for fear of being rejected. He had done the same with Evan though he just hadn't felt like he deserved the child's love. He didn't even understand why Evan loved him. He felt both blessed and damned because he felt like he had let his chance go once again. There were so many things he wanted to share with Evan, so many words that never went through his lips. He didn't even understand why it had been so difficult for him to accept the truth.

Evan was his son.

And he loved him dearly.

More than anything.

Now, if only his son would wake up. He wanted to take him in his arms, to hold him tightly against his chest but he didn't want to miss any sign of him waking up. Since the last crisis, he had taken to read to Evan. They were about to begin some of Severus favorites poems. Evan was more of a pragmatic reader. He was used to read what would be useful for his studies but he never protested Severus' choices. He just craved to share something with his father and it was so nice… Severus hadn't realized how much he enjoyed these times with all the doubts that had poisoned his mind. He had come to regret them now as there was a risk that they could never happen again. He knew he wouldn't outlive Evan. His heart wouldn't sustain such a wound. He took a deep breath and began to read, a hand on Evan's as if to encourage him to wake up.

_Silence had been my muse_

_But it was all an excuse_

_I feared you would judge_

_But your mind wouldn't budge_

_Come back to me little one_

_I'll hunt your nightmares away_

_And keep the devil at bay_

_Come back to me little one_

_Your light is still needed_

_Your smile so much wanted_

_It is just the very beginning_

_I just know where I'm standing_

_Come back to me little one_

_Open your eyes, show me your smile_

_For I just can't say goodbye_

Severus had known this poem for years but he had never really understood how deep it was. He would give up everything, his Mastery, all of his properties and moneys and even his magic to see Evan smile at him and be healthy. The fifth day had come and left and the sun didn't seem to want to rise again. He hadn't slept. How could he? He didn't want Evan to be alone, even for a moment and he didn't care if he had taken too much potions to stay awake. He didn't care if he was exhausted. He just felt that if he was to leave, even just a second, Evan would think that he had abandoned him and let go. That was unthinkable. Totally irrational too but he had passed the stage of rationality a long time ago.

The little hand was still irresponsive.

The sun began to rise.

The sixth day.

He couldn't bear it anymore and he did what he hadn't done in years, since his early childhood in fact: he cried. He had been far too shocked to cry for Lily and back then, he had felt like he didn't deserve the relief. But now, this sun meant that he was about to lose the only person who had known the real him and still had loved and accepted him unconditionally. The most precious child. His child. He was just perfect in his mind and his flaws didn't matter. There were no flaws as long as his son survived. He openly sobbed now, not caring if he was heard, he just wanted to follow Evan in death.

« Don't cry, daddy. »

For half a second, he believed that he had become insane and was hallucinating. He almost didn't dare to look up but couldn't resist, even if he risked having his last hope ruthlessly crushed. His gaze crossed two emerald eyes.

« Evan? », he said, not believing his eyes.

The boy only smiled tiredly to him. Not caring anymore, he pulled his son in a tight hug, so relieved that he couldn't stop crying but trying very hard at the same time to say what he had wanted to these past days:

« My son, my little one… Don't you ever scare me like that! My little one…»

The boy just smiled against his father's chest, whispering:

« I'm fine daddy. I love you too. »

They didn't see the little smile one Healer was wearing as he cast discretely a diagnostic spell before leaving, his presence remaining unnoticed.

* * *

><p><strong>1<strong>The oak is a sacred tree in many traditions; the Oak is vested of privileges granted by the supreme deity because it attracts lightning and symbolizes majesty. At any time and in any place, Oak stands for strength and durability. It's perfect for our Severus, isn't it?

**2**I'm not a Latinist but google translation says that it should mean: The fever of the fear.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, I won't make any promise for the next chapter. I just hope that now that the transition is done it will be easier. At least, I can say it was time as it had been really hard and discouraging sometimes to work alone. Still no beta.<strong>

**Thank you for your reading and continued support.**

**Have a nice day and good week-end to you all.**


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